Plaything
by The-Other-Ghostwriter
Summary: The Joker holds a high-schooler named Dolly hostage, with the threat to kill her in three days. But this girl has more problems than even he anticipated......to his delight. No romance, but close. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_I saw The Dark Knight (twice), fell in love with the Joker (all over again), and thought up a few stories in my head, and decided to write one down. The OC is based loosely on myself, so just try to find the truth from the stuff I make up (my friends will know, perhaps you will too). And so...here...we...go..._

**Chapter 1**

_October 28, 2008_

Anyone who has lived in Gotham City for at least, say, a week, knows that it isnt the safest city by a long shot, the Batman factor considered or not. The school system was no exception, especially the high schools. And this was especially true for Gotham's PS 65, also known as the 'Lowest of the Lowest City School'. It was filled to the brim with teenaged convicts, drug dealers, pregnant girls, and deadbeat dads. Less than one percent of the school had IQs higher than 100, and even then, those kids had problems with authority.

I guess I'm one of those kids. I've lived in this city for over ten years, and at nineteen years old and still in high school, I think I know this city well enough to know of how unfair it is for people. I was born in the slums, and now live in the slums in Gotham, and it's only because my mother wont divorce my father's sorry ass we never got out. I was sent to the lowest schools with the most disgusting of kids that dont care at all about getting out of their hole.

I have an IQ of 138. I make relatively good grades. I even found a job to help pay for college. So why am I stuck in this shithole with an emotionally blind, timid mother who doesnt do shit when my father hits me for being 'smart' (which is why I missed an entire year of school by being in the hospital in a coma for eight months), with teachers who wont give me the benefit of the doubt that maybe, just maybe, I'm not scum and want to do something with my life?

...Sometimes...I just think that if I could just...DO something...everything would be alright...

* * *

"Be sure to be back by four, Dolly. We're having company over."

Dolores "Dolly" Jesston rolled her eyes at her mother's oh-so-caring reminder. "Company, yeah right," she muttered, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked out the door. 'Company' only meant her father's hick relatives that were just as deadbeat and disgusting as he was, especially her Uncle Hector, who gave her lewd looks every time he saw her. She shuddered at the prospect of that man being in her general vicinity as she walked out of the apartment complex and down the street to the bus stop, stepping over a passed out--or possibly dead--drunk on the sidewalk.

Today would be good day for skipping, she thought. But that wasnt going to happen. She wanted to get the hell out of Gotham, and she had to have a good attendance record to attain that. The fact that she had missed a full year of school two years ago really didnt help her situation at all, especially since her application was coming from her current school whose reputation was of course less than reputable.

She leaned against the light post at the bus stop, looking up at the grey sky. Great, she thought. Rain was what she hated most on school days. Her clothes got wet and she had to sit though seven hours of class, which sucked. So she prayed the bus would come before it started to rain.

Thunder.

Drizzle.

"Fuck..." She clunked her head on the post and swore again just as the bus came to a stop in front of her. She sighed and hoisted herself up and walked on the bus flopped on the back seat, glad that it was nearly empty, save for two in the middle that were making out and feeling each other up and some random girl leaning her head against the window as she played her PSP.

Dolly yawned and leaned against the cool window. She had stayed up late to get her book report done--by candlelight no less, because her father would bitch about the electric bill while he kept the television on 24/7--and was exhausted. Against her better judgement, she closed her eyes and shifted to make herself comfortable...

_SKREE_

She jerked up and looked around, noting that the bus had stopped and not where it was supposed to. She squinted to see through the rain and condensation, and saw that there was something obstructing the way of the bus_. _The bus driver swore and stood up before opening the doors and sticking his head out.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!" he shouted. "Get outta the road you freaks!"

_BAM_

Everyone on the bus screamed as a spray of blood hit the driver side window and the driver slumped back, a hole in his head via his forehead. Dolly shrunk back and ducked down on the floor, putting her arms around her legs to listen. She heard someone get on the bus and fire three shots, and knew that the other three kids were now dead.

Keeping her panic down, Dolly put her hands over her mouth and controlled her breathing.

"The bus's clear, Boss," she heard someone say in a muffled voice, like he was wearing a mask or something. She heard someone else enter the bus and strained to hear.

"Nice..." she heard a low voice say. A light bout of laughter followed, and she heard the doors shut and the bus shift back into gear as one of the people got in the driver's seat. "...Alright, let's get going."

Dolly kept perfectly silent as the bus drove off to wherever, her head on her knees and her hands still over her mouth, completely unsure as to what was going to happen to herself.

* * *

_Next up, Dolly meets Joker, and a hostage situation is underway._


	2. Chapter 2

_Shoutout to my reviewers: Thank you so much! I didnt expect such enthusiasm after just one chapter! Here's to hoping I dont disappoint!_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Dolly hadnt looked up from her knees since the bus had started moving again. She figured that if they found her and decided to kill her, she at least didnt have to look down the barrel of the gun before dying. The killers and jackers had been relatively quiet the whole time, and she wasnt about to make any kid of sound that would draw attention to herself, so quiet she remained, even when a trail of blood from the kids in front of her touched the seat of her jeans, soaking them after a few moments.

Finally, after who knew how long, the bus came to a sharp halt, causing her to bump her head on the seat in front of her. She remained quiet, though, as the door opened and she heard at least three people get out. Then all was quiet.

Dolly really didnt know whether or not would be a good time to break for it via the back door, so she quietly leaned forward enough to see out the back door window, then quickly withdrew back to her previous spot when she saw someone heading for it. The door opened and someone jumped up in the back, then leaned forward as though to help someone else in...then looked back, his eyes falling on her.

Dolly felt hot, cold, and sick at the same time as she saw the man with a rather disturbing clown mask on stare at her. Neither moved for a moment, then the man took a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at her, though he didnt shoot. "Get the boss," he told the other person outside of the bus. She heard the other person run away, and kept perfectly still as the man in front of her kept the gun pointed at her, not saying a word.

After a few minutes, the door in the front of the bus slid open and someone stepped onto the bus, taking his sweet time making his way to the back. Dolly finally remembered to breathe as she stared at the floor of the bus, then her breath stopped again when she saw a pair of shoes stop in front of her. Against her better judgement, she looked up, her eyes trailing along dark purple pants, a green vest, and up to a white face with blackened eyes and a messily applied smiley face that didnt hide a malicious accompanying grin.

"Hello, hello," he said with dark humor, and Dolly recognized his voice as the one she had heard earlier. "...What do we have here? A stowaway?" Dolly swallowed hard and bit her lower lip. She had heard about this man from the news--the Joker, they called him. She had watched enough to know that he was not one to kid around, despite his given name, and knew that if she didnt play her proverbial cards right, she was dead.

She let out a small cry when the Joker bend down and picked her up by her arm non-too-gently to get a look at her. He made a thoughtful sound and pulled her to the front of the bus and sat her down in the driver's seat. "Stay put," he said, as though he were talking to a dog, then walked off the bus and up to the men in clown masks.

Dolly didnt catch what was said, but after a moment, the Joker and two henchmen reboarded the bus and the Joker grabbed her arm again and pulled her near the middle and roughly deposited her on a seat across from the one with the dead teenagers, then sat down next to her and gave a signal for one of the henchmen to drive.

The trip to wherever was relatively uneventful, other than getting kidnapped, that is. One of the men was driving, the other was sitting just a seat away with his gun at the ready, and the Joker was sitting next to her in the isle seat to make sure she wasnt going anywhere, playing with a switchblade by retracting the blade, flicking it up, then pushing it back down to do it again. Dolly found it to be more annoying than frightening, actually, but she said nothing. She had more sense of self-preservation than most gave her credit for.

After awhile, half an hour, perhaps, the bus came to a stop and the Joker again grabbed her arm, his switchblade still in his other hand. Dolly silently followed him, making no attempt to get away, even when he paused and tied a cloth around her eyes before pushing her forward again. She walked, only stumbling once, for a few minutes before she was suddenly stopped, turned, and pushed onto a chair and her hands tied behind the back and another rope tied around her body.

"Alright, turn it on," she heard the Joker command. Dolly swallowed hard again and shuddered as she heard scrambling about, then she felt the Joker--she could smell the makeup on his face and his musty clothes--stand behind her and press something cold her her cheek.

"This is going out to the Batman," she heard him say as he stroked the metal object across her face. "I have with me here the guest of the evening." He patted her head dog-like. "...However, this guest cannot stay for long because in three days...I'm afraid that she's going to be..." Dolly let out a gasp when the metal object, now identified as the switchblade, nicked her cheek.

"...Leaving us."

Dolly felt a small trickle of blood run down her face and bit her lip again, trying not to cry out.

"Now," the Joker continued, "if the Batman can manage to find her, he can save her. If not..." He made another nick, making her twitch a little, "...she's dead." He let out a short laugh. "Keep in mind that every day he does not find her, she gets another cut..." He slid the blade tip into her skin, making her wince and bite her lip harder. "Bye bye for now!" She felt him move away a little. "Cut, print, sell it."

Dolly felt a little more blood trickle down her face and made a soft sound of woe. She was going to die if Batman didnt find her? _She_ didnt know where she was! She felt the Joker come back around her and untie her wrists, body, and then take off the blindfold. She blinked a little in the dim light, then reached up to wipe the blood from her cheek and look around.

There were about ten men in the room, only a few wearing those atrocious masks, and she was in what looked like a warehouse modified to a living space. The Joker stepped up around her, pulling another chair around to step out in front of her and sat down, hunching forward to be at eye level with her.

"I assume you know the situation you are in, hmm?" he said, his words sounding like he was occasionally licking the inside of his cheeks at his scars. He probably was. Dolly nodded, looking him in the eye because his face decor was disturbing. "Now, I also assume you know who I am, and that I do not play around?" Dolly nodded again. "Because I will kill you if he cant find you." Dolly again nodded, swallowing hard. The Joker made an amused sound and reached forward to grip her chin and turn her face so her wounded cheek faced him. "And this..." He brushed his thumb over her wound, making her wince. "...Will be nothing compared to the next three days." He let her face go with a flick of his wrist. "Pray your Gotham savior finds out where you are, hm?"

Dolly said nothing, and the Joker made a soft sound and stood up, snapping his fingers. One of the men stepped forward. "Show our guest her her room." He pointed to a random guy. "Find her something else to wear. She's covered in blood, and that just looks bad for us."

The man to show her to her room stepped up next to her. Dolly numbly stood up and let him lead her to another room where a small single bed with two sheets and a pillow laid. She walked in and sat down on the bed, noticing that her backpack was leaning against the foot of the bed. The man said something that she didnt catch, then left.

Dolly grabbed her backpack and held it to her chest, staring a hole into the floor. It was a long time before she realized that the wet running down her face wasnt from her wounds, but rather from her eyes.

* * *

_October 28, 2008_

...Why does everything seem to happen to me? When will I get a break? It's times like this that I wish I would just die.

* * *

_Next chapter, day one with the Joker makes Dolly feel more at home than ever in her life._


	3. Chapter 3

_When I had that first chapter done, I really didnt expect that much enthusiasm! Thank all of you!_

**Chapter 3**

Dolly didnt know when she had fallen asleep, but the next thing she knew, she was blinking the sleep from her eyes and staring hazily down at her white pillow. She slowly sat up, her brain still putting everything in perspective, and rubbed her eyes, groaning a little. She winced slightly when her hand rubbed against her cheek and she felt a stinging pain and dried blood. It was then that everything came back to her: the hijacking, the kidnapping, the threat on her life.

Making a soft sound of angst, Dolly put her face in her hands and tried to control herself. Crying was the last thing she wanted to do; crying led to nothing. After a few minutes, she felt as though she was calm enough to put on a brave face and get up out of the bed to look around.

This room was small and cut off from the rest of the warehouse, like it had been an office room or something. It wasnt clean, but at least there werent any roaches about; that would really suck. Upon further inspection, she saw that a chair that was in the room had some clothes stashed on it, just like the Joker had commanded one of them to get for her. She was glad about that, for when she looked back at the bed, the off-white sheets had blood smears on them from her own clothes, and she felt dirty. Since showering seemed like too much of a luxury for a hostage at the moment, she began to strip herself of her bloody clothes, not really caring if any of them were watching through what she was sure was a two-way window. The clothes that had been laid out for her were a pair of slightly torn and bleached jeans that were two sizes too big--it came with a belt, so so what?--a girl's black tank top with a red 13 on the front, and a size large faded black zip-up hoodie.

The ensemble was fine with her, she'd worn worse. After putting the new clothes on, she put her shoes back on and ran a hand through her rat's nest dirty-blonde hair to do something with it, then crept to the door and slowly opened it, wincing when it squeaked slightly. She heard nothing, so she opened it wider and poked her head out to look around.

The area was clear, just a whole bunch of crap lying around. Dolly wasnt stupid, though. She knew she was being watched by _someone_, and knew that her chances of escape were zero to null. Still, she wasnt being barred in that little room, so she must be free to at least step out, right?

Right.

She slipped out of the room and kept the door open, in case she had to make a dart for it later, and crept out a few feet, looking around. Still no sign of anyone, but that didnt stop her heart from fluttering a mile a minute. A shadow in her periph made her twitch, but she wrote it off as something from the window. It didnt make her feel any better, though. All of a sudden, she caught the scent of something familiar and before she could turn around--

"Hello, Clairese..."

Dolly jumped when she felt a leather-gloved hand around the back of her neck that held her in place as the Joker came around from behind, still keeping a loose but firm hold on her neck. Through his makeup, she could see an amused smirk on his scarred face. "Not thinking of escaping, are we?" Dolly shook her head, though it was kind of hard with his hand holding onto her neck. The Joker made a thoughtful sound and licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I get it..." He let her neck go. "You're bored, is that it?" Dolly blinked, then shrugged one shoulder, not really knowing how to answer that, and shifted where she stood. The Joker turned to look around.

"Well, I dont really have anything here that could amuse a kid..." he said, though she knew he was being sarcastic from his tone, "...but I'm feeling sporty today." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cards. "Are you a gamer?"

Dolly blinked, not really knowing if he was serious or not. But after a moment of silence, the Joker walked over to a table and sat down and began dealing the cards. "I'll play with or without you," he called over. Dolly blinked again and tentatively walked over and sat across from him, keeping her eyes on his hands in case he decided to shoot her for a wrong move or something. But after he finished dealing five cards for each of them, something told her he wasnt going to be killing her. Yet, anyway. She picked up her cards and looked at them, then picked out two and set them down.

"You seem a little too relaxed," the Joker said, lying three cards down and drawing three more from the deck before pushing two more cards over to her. Dolly took them and sorted them out in her hand, her eyes remaining on her cards, and her face blank.

"If I'm going to die in three days," she said, "I dont want to die like a little bitch screaming and begging the whole time..." She laid down another card and the Joker gave her another after drawing himself. "...Screaming and begging like a little bitch does nothing for you, I gather...?"

The Joker let out a short laugh and shook his head. "No, it does not," he chuckled. "Perceptive, arent we?" He laid down his cards. A five of spades, a nine of diamonds, and three kings. "Three of a kind." Dolly dropped down her cards.

"Full house."

* * *

For most of the day, Dolly and her captor played a jubilee of card games, not really talking about much of anything. Then, at around five in the evening, the Joker took her by the arm and dragged her into another room, then pushed her onto a chair and tied her up.

Dolly knew that this was the promise of cutting he had made, and could only sit and await it with cold sweat as the Joker tied the blindfold around her eyes again. She heard him flick open his switchblade. "Alright boys, time to roll it!" She heard fumbling around, then she felt the telltale cold of the blade against her face. "Good evening Gotham, and a special shout-out to that elusive dark knight, Batman! Havent found the girl yet, I gather..." Dolly heard him snicker at his own joke. "...But hey, your problem, not mine." She felt the blade-side press against her face.

"As promised, the girl gets a cut...oh, but not..._just_ a cut..." She felt the blade leave her face and then him slice her tank top open with the blade, and couldnt help but make a small sound of surprise. "She gets...a _slice_!" Slowly and deliberately, just so he could get a reaction out of her and whoever was watching, he made a deep slice across her left breast, and she felt a river of blood trickle from the sliced flesh. Dolly couldnt help but cry out in pain, feeling tears come to her eyes and dampen the blindfold. She heard the Joker cackle with glee from her cries and removed the blade from her person.

"As you can..." He dipped a finger into her blood and removed it, she figured he was showing it to the camera. "...Plainly see...I am _not_ kidding around. Tomorrow is another day, Batman, and tomorrow, the cut gets a little deeper...you have two more days. Better hurry..." He cut off at the sound of Dolly's hitched breaths and left side twitching from the pain, and Dolly felt his hand--the one with the finger covered in her blood--caress her face with faux sympathy. "Oh, shh...shh...it's alright, girly...the first cut is the deepest you know..." He broke off into a bout of insane laughter and then his presence left her entirely as he untied her and pulled the blindfold from her face.

Dolly immediately brought her hand up to her chest, where her wound was still bleeding, and pressed it to try to stop it. She could tell just by the look of it that it would need stitches.

The Joker took her hands away from her wound and looked at it, then made his way into another room, still holding onto her wrist. Without another word, he sat her down on a makeshift reclining gurney and picked up a syringe and a bottle and drew liquid into the syringe.

Dolly hazily looked at him out of the corner of her eye, though her tears of pain. "Wha...what's that...?" she drew out between hitched breaths. The Joker just turned to her and injected the needle into her left shoulder.

"Morphine," he replied. "Cant have you thrashing about, bleeding to death...you might kill yourself before I can." As he spoke, he was threading a curved sewing needle and a thick thread, and Dolly knew that he was going to be stitching her up. However, the fact that she was numbed helped the situation, however fractional the relief was. She could only watch with numb, vague interest as the Joker stitched up her chest wound with near expertise.

She didnt really register when he was finished, but after he had snipped the stitching thread with a pair of scissors, he put some gauze over the stitching and taped it down. "There, all fixed," he said, smiling at his handiwork. Dolly blinked her eyes and looked down at it numbly. The Joker didnt wait for another reaction before putting a hand under her back and lifting her body up, then sliding her off the gurney.

Dolly barely managed to keep her footing as she walked with the Joker back to her assigned room and laid down on her bed, the morphine really going to her head by this point. She was completely out of it by the time the Joker was out of the room.

* * *

_October 29, 2008_

...Why is it that I've had a better, more relaxing day here with maniacs than ever at home, and received more care from a madman than from my own parents?

God must really hate me.

* * *

_Next chapter brings day two, and more light into the life of Dolly. And I have a picture of Dolly here: _

h t t p : / / p h a n t o m - d . d e v i a n t a r t . c o m / a r t / D o l l y - 9 4 2 7 2 9 4 4 (delete spaces) 

_Keep in mind, it does have a few spoilers for the future chapters._


	4. Chapter 4

_I would like to thank Miss Tiger's Eye of Gold for her wonderful picture of chapter three's card scene! Here's to seeing more of them!_

**Chapter 4**

When Dolly first woke up, she felt sick. Then she turned over and felt a jolt of pain on the left side of her chest, and gasped, her hand flying to her wound. She was still in the clothes she was in yesterday, and her tank was still spit open in the front, but at the moment, all she could think about was getting to a bathroom to vomit. She got as far as sticking her head out the door before she had to clutch the door frame and support herself from falling while she threw up on the floor.

She coughed and spit before stumbling forward and walking into someone, then fell back to the floor, holding onto her stomach.

The Joker eyed down at her, then at the mess she had made behind her. "...You certainly made a mess, didnt you?" he said as though talking to a five-year-old. He bent down to grab her arm and stood her up before depositing her non-too-gently on the couch and leaving her for a moment. Dolly groaned as a headache added on to the pain in her chest and stomach and leaned her head into the back of the couch.

The Joker came back with a glass of water, and dropped a pill into it before handing it to her. Dolly took it and drank it without a second thought, and drank it all in one go before going still again. After a few minutes, she began to feel a little better. Her captor arched a brow and sat down across from her.

"You're too comfortable here," he said, staring at her. Dolly was still a little too hazed to tell what his expression was, but she got what he was saying, and shrugged.

"Cant help it," she found herself saying. "Better than..." She broke off, looking at the wall across the room. The Joker blinked and a hint of a smile curled from under the makeup.

"No...please go on..." he said, leaning back and putting his hands together. Dolly looked over at him, her eyes narrowing.

"My life story isnt one for some crazy psycho's amusement!" she snapped, giving herself another headache. All hint of a smile vanished from the Joker's face as a switchblade found itself into his hand.

"I dont like being called 'crazy'. I am _not_ crazy." Dolly could almost taste the malice in his voice as his thumb played with the latch to flip the switchblade open. She turned her head to look at him.

"...You really could have fooled me," she said, her words somewhat slurred from the remaining morphine's effects. Whether or not the Joker knew or cared about that fact, he didnt show, but instead he shot up and pinned her to the back of the couch by her injured side and flipped the switchblade open and pressed the blade to her neck.

"You're skating on rapidly melting ice, kid," he hissed, his voice low and malicious. He pressed the blade into her skin. "You would do well to remember that you are being held here by someone who doesnt give a shit if you live or die, so you had better watch that pretty little mouth of yours."

Dolly shifted her eyes down to the blade, then looked back at him in the eye and then pressed her neck into the blade, drawing a thin line of blood. "If you're going to threaten me with a knife," she said softly, though her voice was filled with acid. "You might as well cut me a little." The Joker looked at the trickle of blood on his blade with fractionally widened eyes and withdrew his blade from her skin.

"...And you called _me_ crazy?" he said, wiping the blood off of it on the cloth of the couch and flicked it shut before letting her go and sitting back down across from her. "You're the one acting like a resident in the current home of your abductor. I only wished to know why."

Dolly brushed the blood off of her neck and wiped her hand on the couch_. _"I would tell you...but I can tell that you're not the kind of person who gives a rat's ass about every Harry Hard Luck or Suzy Sob Story tale..." She eyed him. "...Am I right?"

The Joker arched a brow and leaned back. "Right you are," he replied. "But that doesnt mean I dont _enjoy_ a good story." Dolly sighed and turned so she was sitting back on the couch.

"...Fine," she replied. She picked up her glass. "You got anything else to drink in here?"

"We've got beer..."

"I dont drink."

"Milk."

"I'm lactose intolerant."

Sigh. "Water?"

"There you go."

The Joker made a sound in the back of his throat and walked over to an old fridge and pulled out a bottled water and tossed it over the the couch to land beside her. Dolly picked it up and opened it, then took a long drink while the Joker sat back down on his seat across from her.

"Thank you," she said, putting the half-empty bottle on the couch next to her. The leaned back and sighed. "What do you want to know?" The Joker looked thoughtful for a moment.

"...You were about to mention something about something 'better than...'...what was that?" Dolly shifted on the couch and bit her lip, as though she were about to say something she really didnt want to.

"...Being here..." she said slowly. "...Is better than home."

There was a moment of silence following, then the Joker gestured with his hand. "Go on."

Dolly poked at the bottle of water next to her. "What else is to go on with?" she said. "I'm treated better here than I am at home. At least you give me attention and every word out of your mouth isnt demeaning or insulting. At least after you cut me up, you stitch me back together. At least you let me _know_ when you're going to hurt me...at least you dont beat me in my sleep..." As she spoke, her voice stayed strong, but her eyes were swirling with darkness, a look the Joker knew all too well.

"...My mother is completely dependent on my father," she continued. "Even though I see her cringe every time he beats at me, but she doesnt so much as help me up after he's done. She does everything she can to make sure _he's_ happy, but doesnt even give me a passing glance when I have to blow what small bit of money I have on concealer so no one will find out...Even when he pushed her down the stairs when she was pregnant with my little brother so that we 'wouldnt waste anymore money'...

"As for my father...what _hasnt_ he done to hurt me?" She looked at the Joker with hardened eyes. "You want to know why I'm so calm here? It's because anything you do to me, he's already done." She made a soft 'pfft' sound. "Other than rape me or kill me, he hasnt fallen demented enough to do that yet, though his bastard brother is coming close..." She pulled up her zip-up hoodie to show off her stomach, which had a long, huge scar running across her stomach. "When I was ten, my father took a knife to me. At the hospital, he told the doctors it was a man who had broken into our house and I surprised him. This is just one of many." She put her hoodie down.

"My father has burned me, hit me, whipped me, starved me, attempted to drown me, choked me, and pushed me off of more than one staircase. The only reason why I'm nineteen and still in high school is because he pushed me out a window and I was put into a coma for eight months." She made another sound. "And his excuse for that one was that I was roughhousing around with the dog. We didnt fucking _have_ a dog!"

She broke off for a few moments before continuing.

"...I'm a good girl," she said. "I make all As and Bs in school. I have an IQ of 138. I've never touched beer or drugs, and I'm working two jobs to pay for food and a psychology and sociology class at the Gotham Community College. I never touched a gun, and I have never used a knife for anything other than cooking. I want to be a psychologist so that I can help other kids that have been through what I've been through--or worse--and who didnt come out of it as strong as I have. So...why?" She looked up at the Joker, her eyes darkened. "...Why am I still here?"

The Joker made a soft sound. "Because I'm not letting you go." He blinked when Dolly let out a bark of laughter.

"I'm not talking about _that_," she said. "I'm talking about _here_...in this city...in this world. Why am I not dead yet?"

The Joker reclined back, his face blank. "...Because you're a strange girl," he said, again sounding like he was licking his scars. "...And what doesnt kill you...makes you stranger." He bend forward so his arms rested on his knees. "...People...so-called _normal_ people..." He made quotes with his fingers. "...They're the easiest to kill...because they're predicable. Their reactions to a situation...and how they handle it...it's easy to see the pattern after awhile, and hence, it's easy to cut them off that pattern.

"Now, look at people...like say, me." He licked his lips. "You never know what's going on in my mind, let alone how to comprehend what you happen to find out, right? Right. Now...put me in an everyday situation, and while the rest of the little sheep are following the herd...the black sheep move another way. And the shepherd doesnt know what to do with the black sheep, so he leaves it alone to be on his way. He doesnt take the time, you see..."

"...To figure out the ways of the black sheep, where he's going and why he's going that way," Dolly finished absently. The Joker blinked at her. "...I told you, I want to be a psychologist. I make it my forte to know about all kinds of mental being...be it 'normal' or 'crazy'..." The Joker made a soft sound, his mouth twitching. "...My apologies, 'insane'. There's a big difference."

The Joker arched a brow. "...Enlighten me." Dolly looked him in the eye.

"Crazy people dont know they're crazy," she said. "Insane people know they're insane, and they revel in the fact." She nodded pointedly. "Like you. Insane people are ahead of the curb. I did a paper for my class on how insanity could actually be a psychological evolution, rather than a regression." She made another 'pfft' sound. "I got a 'B' on it because it wasnt 'well-enough researched', if you can believe that..."

"I can," the Joker said, leaning back. "...And here's what I also believe...I believe that you're insane, too."

Dolly opened the bottle and took another drink. "From the way things have been, and from the way that I havent killed myself yet...I think so too."

* * *

Five-o-clock came again, and Dolly was tied to the chair, same as last time, and the blindfold tied over her eyes. She heard the telltale switchblade snap into place.

"Day two, Gotham viewers," the Joker said, his voice taking that insane higher pitch. "And still, no sign of the Batman to save the little damsel in distress." She felt his hand reach and grab her head, then bend it to the side to expose her neck--the side she hadnt nicked earlier before. "Now, as promised, another cut on her pretty pale flesh...another scar for the Batman to have on his conscience..." He pressed the blade into a non-lethal part of her neck and she heard him lick his scars.

"Now...for the climax of the show...!" Dolly cried out and tried to keep still and not cause extra damage as he slices the razor-sharp blade across her neck and down at an angle between her clavicles to come to a rest at the top of her sternum before lifting. She groaned and let the tears run into the cloth of the blindfold as the Joker carded his fingers through her hair with mock comfort.

"She sheds blood with every passing day, Batman," the Joker cackled, smearing her blood over her neck and chest. "Better hurry...She dies at sunset tomorrow evening" After she heard the camera be shut off, the Joker untied her and took off the blindfold and pressed the cloth to her neck.

Dolly felt a little sick as the Joker led her back into the room with the medical supplies and let her lie back on the gurney.

"You wont be needing stitches this time around," he said. "But I wouldnt suggest straining yourself." He rolled up his sleeves and put a liquid onto a cloth and rubbed it into her cut. Dolly bit her lip and kept her neck turned, clenching her fingers into the gurney beneath her. The Joker finished cleaning and disinfecting and bandaged it up, tossing the bloody cloth behind him, then pulled her up and led her back to her room.

"I'll send in something for you to eat," he said. "You havent eaten in two days. Cant have you starving before the big finale, hm?"

Dolly made a soft sound. "My personal best is six days without passing out," she replied. The Joker shrugged.

"Still," he said. He turned to leave and shut the door behind him. Though, Dolly could still hear him yelling at the henchmen. "Scrounge up something to eat! And God help you if there's dairy in it! I wont have her dying before I get to her first!"

Despite herself, be it from the loss of blood, the mind-snapping situation, or that she may in fact be insane, Dolly turned and snickered into her pillow.

* * *

_October 30, 2008_

My final days may not be so bad. My abductor listened to me and believed when the councilors ignored me or thought I was lying. He may not be sympathetic...but right now, his empathy means more. Death may not be so bad. I just might welcome it.

* * *

_In the next chapter, the morning before she's set to die, Dolly completely loses it--and it isnt the Joker's doing._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_October 31, 2008_

This may be my last entry into this journal. God only knows what will happen to it once the Joker kills me. And I know he will. Batman isnt coming for me. I'm not important enough for him to come after me, I know that. My last request is that the Joker give this journal to the police, or Batman or whoever gives a fuck. They'll read it and know what scum my parents are, and put an maybe do something about it. It's only fitting that I die on Halloween, because the day I was born was the day my life went straight to Hell.

Happy birthday to me...

* * *

Dolly didnt sleep most of the night. She spent the time awake writing in her journal and doodling on some paper she found lying around. She found herself doodling dolls, an old habit of hers as a child when the boys would make fun of her name. She drew them as a way to turn their teasing into something positive. As she grew more tired, as she hadnt eaten much of what the Joker had given her, she found herself drawing out a face with the Joker's messy decor on it, then she finally drifted off around four a.m.

When she did wake up around two, she sighed and made her way to the door to see if the Joker would let her send out for something as a final meal, when something on the chair next to the door caught her eye. She picked it up and held it out in front of her.

A black and red doll dress in her size.

Underneath the dress were new black stockings with black lace, and a pair of red Mary Jane's, and a pair of black dinner gloves completed the outfit.

A feeling Dolly couldnt describe welled up in her chest. It wasnt really the fact that the Joker was making her a literal pun of her name, or the fact that she was going to die in a matter of hours. She didnt know what was wrong, or rather, what w_asnt_ wrong with this situation.

After hugging the dress to her for a few minutes, she slipped on a blank look and put the dress back on the chair. It would be a waste to ruin such a nice dress with her blood. She stroked her fingertips over the dress and opened the door into the warehouse.

The Joker was sitting down at the table playing solitaire (and cheating by looking under the deck), and looked up when he saw Dolly. He eyed her over, noticing that she wasnt wearing the outfit. "You didnt like my farewell present?" he asked, looking back to his cards. Dolly pulled the chair across from him and plopped down.

"It's too nice to ruin," she said. "Put me in it when you give my body to the cops." She ran a hand through her greasy hair and sighed. The Joker arched an eyebrow.

"You assume you're going to die, then?" He put a five of diamonds over a six of spades. Dolly shook her head.

"No...I know I'm going to die, " she replied. At the Joker's blink, she continued. "I'm not important. I'm another face in the crowd...no, in fact, I'm _behind_ the crowd. Most if not all of my teachers dont know my name, and I wont be missed at school, at work, and most definitely not home." She gave him a blank look, but the Joker noticed her darkened, hardened eyes. "...So why bother trying to save a random girl that wont so much as tip the scales in Gotham's balance?"

The Joker nodded. "I see," he said. "A sad way of thinking."

"Sad but true," Dolly said. "I've never tried to delude myself into thinking the impossible could happen. I mean, after you kill me, Batman'll be pissed that you killed someone and all that...but it'll be because I'm a person...not because I'm of any importance..."

The Joker set the cards in his hands down. "...You're awfully perceptive for a Gotham resident," he said. "Usually the people here are mindless, ignorant idiots."

Dolly snorted. "And what makes the rest of this world any different?"

"A valid point."

"Thanks."

Silence.

"...Dont think talking will get you out of this," the Joker said, picking his cards back up. Dolly let out a short laugh.

"And dont think I'll come down with a case of Stockholm Syndrome. I'm just talking for someone to hear." She shrugged. "And if you're still listening...I have a last meal and last testament request." The Joker looked up from his game.

"...You're kinda pushing it, Dolly," he said, drawing a card and putting it down. Dolly shrugged.

"All I want is some Chinese takeout," she said. "I havent had it in a few years, and I really like it." The Joker blinked, then turned back to his cards.

"...And this last request?" he queried. Dolly pulled her journal from her lap and set it on the table.

"...Give this to the police, or Batman or someone," she said. "...They'll at least know that I died happier than I lived."

The Joker paused from putting a two on top of a three to look up, then set the card down and then started to sort the cards into their respective piles on top of the aces.

"Touching," he said. He finally pulled his cards together and put them back into a deck. "You'll get your Chinese at the very least. I cant promise you I'll hand over the journal." Dolly nodded.

"Fair enough. Thanks." She left the journal on the table and stood up, stretching. Before either could do anything else, one of the other guys ran into the room.

"Hey, Boss!" he yelled. "There's something on TV I think you wanna see!" He ran back out, and the Joker followed with Dolly in tow. The rest of the henchmen were gathered around a large-screened TV with the noon news on.

"Day three has come for the the life of the girl threatened by the Joker," the reporter woman was saying to the camera. She held up a picture that Dolly saw was of her, but she had never seen before. However, the picture showed her wearing the faded black hoodie, so it must have been taken in the warehouse when she wasnt paying attention. "This picture was sent to the authorities on day one, along with the tape of the girl that was being tortured. Commissioner Gordon believes this to be a clue to who she is, and perhaps, where she is being held."

Dolly watched on as the reporter woman turned behind her and pulled out something from a box, and Dolly saw that it was a doll with the Joker's makeup painted in its face. "This was apparently another clue, though a vague one, in the words of Commissioner Gordon." Dolly made a soft sound and rolled her eyes at the Joker's sense of sucky humor. "We have been asking around for someone--anyone--who can at the very least tell us who this girl is."

The camera broke into four pictures, with for different reporters with copies of the photo in different parts of the city asking around for her. Dolly watched all of them, then looked to the bottom left of the screen and sat at attention. "That's my neighborhood," she said, pointing to it. She stared at that screen and watched as some people she saw nearly every day were showed the picture, and all of them shook their heads.

Dolly felt a heat rise from her gut as person after person in her general living area denied seeing her. While she watched, random squares of interview were slightly enlarged to show more detail and audio, and finally, the square for her neighborhood was enlarged, and then she could hear the reporter man show off her picture.

"Sir...Sir, do you know this girl?" he asked a man whose back was turned. The man turned around and Dolly felt her gut clench hard. It was her father. Her mother was next to him, and she could _see_ her mother pale at the sight of it, but her father's face--nor his eyes--showed a single emotion.

"I've never seen her before in my life," her father said, turning and pulling his wife with him.

Anything else that was said wasnt heard, as Dolly's every sense was shut down. She couldnt hear what else was being said, and her entire body went numb. The only thing she was even aware of was the feeling of utter _hate_ rising from her gut and up her chest.

The Joker was watching the TV with amusement, and leaned his head on his hand to enjoy his handiwork as the reporter went on about "Will Batman save the girl in time?", then snapped out of his joy when one of his employers tapped him on his shoulder. He glared with annoyance at him and moved to slice his throat open for disturbing his happiness when the man pointed at Dolly. He looked and blinked when he saw that her hands were clenched into fists so tight, he could hear her bones cracking. He couldnt see her face, but her body was shaking.

He reached out to poke at her shoulder, but drew back with surprise when she suddenly let out a bloody-murder scream.

"_THOSE MOTHERFUCKING BASTARDS!!" _she screamed, bending forward to beat at the floor with her fists. _"BASTARDS!! I HATE THEM!! I HATE THEM!!"_

The Joker and his henchmen stared at the girl freaking out on the floor in front of them as said girl shot up and grabbed the nearest thing--an empty beer bottle--and chucked it at the television, breaking the bottle to pieces. The Joker shot up and grabbed her arms from behind.

"What the hell has gotten into _you_?" he demanded. Dolly let out another shriek and wrenched away from him, grabbing an empty chair and hurling it at the television, breaking both.

_"I HATE THEM!! I HATE THEM ALL!!" _she screamed, tearing at her face with her nails. And that wasnt the only damage; all of her straining made the wounds on her neck reopen and bleed through the gauze. But she didnt seem to care at all. _"THEY CAN ALL BURN!! THEY CAN BURN IN HELL!! ALL OF THEM!!" _she let out another scream, which seemed to finally drain her out, and turn around to run away to somewhere--anywhere--and ran into a person. She struggled against the grip he put on her, then finally stopped and grabbed at his clothes, sobbing and crying out into his chest.

The Joker didnt really know what to do with the girl freaking out on him, so he just stood there and let her come down from her hatred high. After a few more sob-ridden moments, Dolly finally let out a tired cry and slumped down in a dead faint. The Joker caught her and picked her up, looking from her to the broken television, and back again, a thoughtful expression on his painted face.

* * *

_The next chapter brings us into an epiphany and an alliance._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Again, it took awhile for Dolly to register that she was awake. But this time, it was because she was numbed, both psychologically, and physically. She couldnt move because she didnt _want_ to move. All throughout her sleep--was it, or was she awake and seeing it? Over...and over again...

Dolly felt that same hot hate rise from her gut again, and buried her face into her pillow, then screamed. _HOW COULD THEY!?_ she kept screaming to herself. She knew that she didnt mean that much to them, but for the to completely deny her existence? Mother of fucking God! She finished screaming into the pillow, then turned to lean her head against it again, her breathing hitched.

...Like it mattered anyway...she was dead. Dead to her parents, dead to Gotham...dead to the world...she looked over at the small desk clock on the table beside her bed for the time, to see how long she had to die.

Seven forty-eight. A.M. She blinked. A.M...that meant...in the morning...it was morning. November first. And she wasnt dead. Was she? Dolly shot up and winced when the wound in her neck threatened to reopen again. No, not dead. She put a hand to her heart to be perfectly sure. Still beating. She was still alive.

...Fuck

Dolly laid back down on her pillow and went silent again. Still alive meant suffering what she knew...she never wished she were dead more than right now...She stared a hole into the wall across from her and didnt so much as blink when the door opened and the Joker walked in, something in his hands. He noticed she was awake and set the thing in his hands down, which Dolly didnt bother to look at, then sat down on the foot of the bed.

"Care to explain why I'm still alive?" Dolly finally asked, still staring at the wall. The Joker made a soft sound.

"You act like it's a great injustice that you're still alive," he said dryly. Dolly blinked slowly.

"In the immortal words of the great Frankenstein," she replied, "'Dead is better'..."

Silence.

"...I'll tell you why you're still alive if you tell me what your little bitchfit was about," the Joker said. "...I'm listening." Dolly's expression didnt change, but tears filled her eyes regardless.

"...Those...those people," she finally said after a few moments, "...That man...who said he'd never seen me...?" The Joker nodded. "...He was my father."

The Joker stared at her, understanding completely. "...I see," he said softly, staring at the wall with her. He said nothing more. Dolly finally shifted her eyes over to look at him.

"...Why am I still alive?" she asked. The Joker looked back at her, his dark eyes looking a little brighter than usual.

"You intrigued me," he said finally. "...You were abducted, tied up, cut, and you remained calm and intelligently civilized..." He broke off, his lips twitching. "...And then someone--your father, I now know--says that he had never seen you before in his life...and you go completely apeshit insane. It's...intriguing."

Dolly blinked at him, then shifted her gaze back to the wall. "...Have I ceased intriguing you yet?" she asked. The Joker made a soft sound.

"At the moment? No." He stood up. "When you're done moping over something that neednt be moped about, we can talk later but for now...dont be so serious..." He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Dolly stared at the wall for a few more moments before slowly sitting up in bed and sighing, his words sinking in deep. His words were actually making her feel better, because they were completely true. He was absolutely right. She shouldnt be moping over this...

_She should be doing something about it._

The rising heat of hatred in her gut dissipated, leaving only a warm settled feeling of hate that didnt make her feel sick, but rather made her feel secure and a lot better. No, she wouldnt mope about it anymore...she wasnt even going to suffer through it...she was going to rise to it, and slash it down. She was dead to them? Fine. They were dead to her. They were _nothing_ to her.

Letting her lips twitch into a hint of a smile, she looked over to see what the Joker had left on her table.

Chinese food.

* * *

The Joker was in the main part of the warehouse, sitting down on the couch with Dolly's journal in his hands as he read it. His eyes surveyed every word, looking for signs of change in the handwriting. He had become quite good at handwriting analysis, and could tell, to his intrigue, she had apparent outside anger with undertones of a rapidly loosening hold on her sanity. Just by reading about what her fiend of a father and sin-blind mother had done to her, it amazed even him that she hadnt given in to the hate in her mind and took up arms to justify herself.

...After all this man had done to her, all it took was denying her existence to finally knock that last support beam lose.

And reading the most recent entries, he found that she had indirectly reached out and clutched at him as a source of comfort, seeing him as a saint in comparison to the Hell she came from, oh the irony was sweet-tasting there... But he digressed. Dying by his hands being a happier occasion than living in the hands of her parents? That was just plain cavity-inducing.

After reading the last entry, which mentioned that day being her birthday, he had come to a final conclusion as to what he was to do with her. She felt safer here, with mental cases and criminally insane minds, than at home? She preferred his company than that of her parents'? Her way of thinking very similar if not almost identical to his? Very well then. He would take her in. He would nurture that criminally insane maniac that had been fighting to come out since her childhood, and mold her into a brilliant, insane, _marvelous_ being that would tip those aforementioned scales of Gotham and turn the tides to his favor.

He closed her journal with a grin almost as wide as his makeup. Happy birthday, dear Dolly; happy birthday to you...

* * *

By the time Dolly had finished her Chinese--taking her sweet time to savor it--the Joker had finished her journal and was amusing himself by looking at her little drawings. Even though she would classify them as doodles, he saw them as wonderful works, especially her sketch of him, which he knew had been done in her near-sleep because of how the lines kept drizzling off every so often.

He looked up when he saw the girl walk in, and set the drawings aside. Dolly quietly sat down across from him and brushed her increasingly messy hair out of her face and stared at him, waiting for what he had to say about the here and now. The Joker stared back, wondering if the girl before him had fallen deep enough into the proverbial abyss to go for what he had to offer. Well, what better way to tell than to ask, eh?

"I assume you're wondering what's going to happen to you now, hm?" he asked, folding his hands on the table top. Dolly nodded, her eyes still locked onto his with not an ounce of fear in them, but rather, the Joker was overjoyed to see, with an unwavering flame of vengeance. He let a smirk slide on his lips. "I've thought it over," he said. "And since I went through all the trouble to find a girl that looked enough like you to bind and kill in your place for the sake of keeping up appearances...I expect you to listen to what I have to offer."

Dolly nodded again. "I'm listening," she said softly. The Joker licked his lips reflexively.

"My offer to you," he said evenly, "is to stay here. With me." He paused.

Dolly blinked softly. "...As what?" she asked, her tone not at all foreboding. "A whore?"

The Joker let out a bark of laughter, _quite_ amused from the bland way she had said it, rather than the insinuation. "No, no, no," he said with a shake of his head after regaining control of himself. "I have absolutely no interest in that particular field of employment. I want you to stay here to work for me." Dolly blinked again.

"...That doesnt really cover the explanation," she replied. The Joker let out a small sigh, though not of annoyance.

"I want you..." he said slowly, "...to work for me in what I _do_." He leaned back. "Plant some bombs, run a few errands, deliver a few notes, that sort of thing."

"Ohhh," Dolly said, the 'eureka' in her tone still flat. "That." She leaned back same as him. "Alright," she said with a shrug. The Joker arched a brow, actually surprised that she accepted the offer, and without even laying down any terms of her own, let alone not questioning his motives. He stared at her, and she stared back.

"...Anything to say on the matter?" he finally said. Dolly put on a thoughtful look, then shrugged.

"Not really," she replied. "You're giving me a job that comes with room, food, and a purpose for deciding to not kill myself. What else really _do_ I need in terms of 'my own terms'?"

The Joker's smirk broadened. He was _really _starting to gain more credit in himself for his decision to keep her alive.

"There are rules," he said suddenly, catching her attention. Not that he needed to, as she looked as though she had been expecting him to say that. "Rule number one: no backing out. If you show weakness, I wont hesitate to take you out." Dolly nodded, and he continued. "Rule number two: no freeloading. I expect you to work for your room and food, not to mention your life. Rule number three: You will respect me." His voice grew quite serious here. "I didnt just pick you up from Arkham Asylum to do my dirty work. I spared your life, despite the fact that I dont care one lick about you, or your life story; just the same that you dont care one lick about me or my life story. We dont care, and we can agree on that. But still, the fact that you're still alive hangs by the principle that I spared it. Dont forget that."

Dolly nodded. "I wont," she said. "...And I wish to thank you for it. Not because that I actually _care_ about it, that's not it." Her violet eyes darkened. "You gave me a second chance..." She clenched her hands. "...To rise above what I am...and gain some respect in my own right...even if it means killing for it." The Joker's eyes fractionally widened. "I've had enough," she said, her voice taking a lower pitch. "I've had enough of not doing anything about how fucked up my life is. I've tried doing it the good way; I've tried ignoring the abuse and doing the good thing. And for nineteen _fucking_ years, it's done _nothing_. Nothing at all." She took a breath.

"I'm dead to the world," she said softly, her voice now taking on a more light, almost sad tone. "...I'm just another nameless person fallen victim to Gotham's most notorious villain. And they dont care. So I dont care." She looked at her hands. "...They're all dead to me. Let the city burn and let me sift the ashes through my fingers in the end..." She held up hand hand a few inches off the table as though she was sifting something through her fingers before clenching it tightly.

The Joker was silent for a moment, then he began to chuckle deep in his throat, which escalated slowing into outright insane laughter that rang throughout the entire warehouse. He leaned far back into his seat and shook his head. "You," he said, still giggling, "are simply too much..." He leaned forward to her again. "Welcome to the dark side, Dolly."

Dolly nodded, her violet eyes darkening slightly. "Glad to be here," she replied. "...Boss."

* * *

_The next chapter focuses on a random task of Dolly's, and a few flashbacks._


	7. Chapter 7

_...Yeah, forgot to admit that this story takes place about three years after Dark Knight...sorry... And a special shout out to Ra Ra! Thanks for putting up with it! _

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Joe "Killa" Carter, leader of one if the underground crime scene organizations put together after the Joker was put into Arkham Asylum three years ago, sat down at the head of his table and looked toward the door. He had gotten a message from one of his boys that someone--one of the other high-ranking crime lords--wanted to integrate their efforts, and was coming over for a 'visit'. He looked at his Rolex to check the time. 9:59. The 'visitor' set his time for 10:00 sharp, and seemed like he was going to be late for his own negotiations.

However, just as the second hand hit the 12 on his watch, there was a knock at the door. Killa nodded to the door guard to open up the door. His guard nodded back and opened the door, then stepped aside for the visitor. Instead of some intimidating crime lord he expected, a girl that couldnt have been more than eighteen or so walked in, her hands in the pockets of her black jacket and her mess of long dirty-blonde hair framing her face. She stared straight ahead right at him with intense violet eyes, and walked right past the other guards to sit down on the other end of the table.

"...This is some kind of joke, right?" Killa said after a moment. The girl merely arched a brow. "..._You're_ the one who contacted me on an alliance?" The girl snorted.

"No," she said, examining her fingernails. "My boss did. He just told me to go on ahead and save him a seat while he put his face on. Said he didnt want to make a bad first impression." She looked back up at him, her eyes flicking over his person. "...Not that you'd care, I gather...?"

Killa growled and clenched his fists. "Who the hell do you work for?" he demanded. The girl gave him a hint of a smile, as though she were waiting for him to ask this very question. She put her hand in her pocket and took out a card, then flicked it at him.

"My boss's card," she said. Killa picked it up and looked at it. All he saw was a poker deck's joker card.

"Oh _hell_ no!" he shouted, standing up and crushing the card in his hand. "I am _not_ having anything to do with that _freak_!!"

"Oh, that's a nice way to put it..."

Everyone in the room turned to the door to see the Joker see himself in, not at all looking like he wanted to make an impression other than making someone vomit a little in their mouths. Or in this case, making everyone but the girl turn three shades paler. The Joker walked up and sat himself down at the table next to the girl, who went back to examining her nails. "...I come with all intentions of joining up, and all I get is an insult..." He tsked, shaking his head.

Killa shakily sat himself back down, still glaring at the Joker. "I dont know why you're here," he said through his teeth, "but rest assured that you wont be getting _any_ of my help. I dont work with freaks like _you._"

The Joker just stared at him, blinking every so often. "...Freaks like me..." he repeated, mostly to himself. He turned to the girl next to him. "Care to enlighten Mister Killer here what exactly a 'freak like me' is capable of?" The girl nodded and pulled out what looked like a binder with multiple tabs in it. She flipped it open and ran her finger down a page.

"Joker," she said. "Other aliases: the Clown Prince of Crime, the Harlequin of Hate, the Ace of Knaves. Age: Unknown. Other information: Unknown. Mentionable crimes: ..." She broke off, looking back up at Killa while flipping page upon page over her thumb. "...Well, they neednt be mentioned, I presume?"

The Joker had began snickering to himself around his second alias, and also looked at Killa. "I almost took Gotham over once," he said with a delightful mad tone. "And I can do it again. With, or without help. Now..." He folded his hands, lacing his fingers together and licked his lips. "...I dont think I need to tell you what happened to the other so-called 'crime lords' that crossed me. Though the press and tabloids didnt to the whole story justice at all...But anyway..." He paused and flicked his tongue over the corner of his mouth.

"Dont you find it a little...ironic and hypocritical that a 'crime lord' such as yourself thinks that you're too good for..." He put on a dark tone. "...Someone like me?" He gestured to himself. "When the way I see it, you're not _good enough_ for me."

Both the Joker and his 'stand in' ignored the indignant cries of protest around them. The Joker just kept staring at Killa, not batting an eye when his boys drew their guns. Killa himself rose out of his seat and slammed his fists on the table. "Do you have _any_ idea _who_ you're talking to, you freak!?" he yelled over to the Joker, who merely blinked, then turned to the girl next to him, who reopened her binder.

"Joseph "Killa" Allen Carter," she said. "Aliases: Killa, Black Gun, Mister Red. Age: 37. Other information: Went to high-class Gotham schools since pre-k, graduated in the top ten of his class, attended Harvard Law for three years before dropping out to kill his brother Antwon for embezzling family company money..." She smirked, though her eyes never left her binder. "...Turned to low-class organized crime at age 29, laid low doing petty jobs until three years ago when he rose the top ranks..." She closed her binder. "...To scrounge over what territory he could after the Joker's commitment into Arkham."

The Joker smirked dryly. "And I repeat," he said. "You're not good enough for me." He leaned back in his chair. "Having the sheltered, privileged life and throwing it away..." He tsked, again shaking his head. "Makes one shudder to wonder what else you would throw away..."

"Enough!" Killa shouted, slamming his fist onto the table again. "I am _not_ going to sit here and listen to some circus freak and his bitch talk to me that way!" His boys raised their guns and pointed them at the duo sitting across from their boss. "The _both_ of you can burn in Hell!"

The Joker arched a brow at Killa's outburst and flicked the tip of his tongue over his lips. "...I take that as a decline?" he asked. He shrugged. "Fine. Not my loss." He stood up and put his hands in his pockets, then headed for the door. "I'll leave you to yourself now. Good day to you, Sir." As the Joker walked out the door, Killa noticed that the girl had remained seated, and was examining her nails again.

"...Arent you gonna get out of here?" Killa spat, pointing to the door. The girl looked up and blinked.

"...Oh," she said, as though she was just realizing the situation. She stood up and picked the binder up. "Alright. Have a nice day, Mister Red." Before she turned to walk out, she reached into her jacket. Killa thought that she was reaching for a gun, but instead she pulled out a finely crafted doll and set it down on the table. She looked up and gave Killa a charmingly innocent smile and walked out of the door to follow her boss.

After they had left, Killa sat back down, putting two fingers to his throbbing temples, feeling the need for some aspirin. One of his boys snorted and walked over to pick up the doll.

"Man, what the hell is this shit?" he said, turning the doll over in his hands. He paused when he saw a string in the doll's back and laughed. "That bitch gotta be as crazy as he is..." He hooked his finger in the pull-string ring and stared to pull just as Killa looked up.

"What the..._DONT PULL IT!!_"

The Joker had gotten into the driver's seat of the car he had jacked a few hours earlier, and was looking in the rear-view mirror at Dolly as she walked toward the car. She looked at the back of his head and gave him a grin just as the building behind them exploded. Dolly calmly got into the passenger side and shut the door as she ran a hand through her messy hair.

"...I think he got the message, Boss," she said calmly, reclining the seat back. The Joker laughed and started up the car and drove away from Killa's base of operations, letting Dolly dial her way though the various radio stations. She had gotten better at her bomb-making, he had to give her that. As he drove out back to the inner city, his thoughts wondered over to the past six months Dolly had officially been in his employment.

* * *

_Six months ago:_

It was a wonderful start, the Joker had noticed. His first test of her loyalty was obedience. He had to be sure she would not question him at all, no matter what he demanded of her. The first job for her: grand theft auto and get-away driver. She had blinked and looked as though she had wanted to say something, but then shrugged and left while the Joker and a few lackies robbed an electronics store that doubled as a cover for the technologically-centered Malowsky crime family's base. The Malowskys had an interesting piece of technology that the Joker found interesting and decided that he could make better use of it than they could.

It was pretty routine: break in, tie some people up, demand where it was, shoot some people, demand some more, and get the information he wanted. He was led to the basement and through a secret passage where both the plans and prototype were located. He snagged them both then shot his guide in the head, then made his way back up to the store in time to hear police sirens.

Running out the door, trusting his lackies to be smart enough to follow, he looked around desperately for his get-away car, and finally, his eyes landed on Dolly, who was sitting in the driver's seat of a brand-new Pontiac that had the window shot out. Deciding to mention to her about getting a less conspicuous car in the future, he ran around and got in the passenger side, and barely giving just one of the henchman to get in the back, yelled "Floor it!"

Indeed, Dolly did floor it. And the Joker had to admit that after every car chase he had ever been in, he had never seen a more reckless driver than the girl driving. She cut corners so fast and sharply, the small car almost tipped more than once. The car was almost hit more times than the Joker could count, and that was just in the first two minutes. He really wished he had put his seat belt on.

Finally, after they had lost the cops, Dolly made her way back to the warehouse and put on the brakes a little heavily. The henchman in the back fumbled for the door handle, literally fell out, and vomited all over the ground. The Joker silently got out, brushed his hair out of his face and looked at Dolly blandly as she got out of the car.

"...Nice driving," he said after a moment. Dolly looked at the car, then back at her boss.

"Yeah, I think so too," she said. "Not bad for my first time driving, huh?"

The Joker blinked. "...That..." he said, "...was your first time driving?" Dolly nodded. "...What the hell kind of nineteen year old doesnt know how to drive!?"

Dolly scoffed. "This one, apparently," she said, shutting the car door.

"Why dont you know how to drive?"

"No one ever taught me."

"How did you get to and from work?"

"Public transportation and walking."

The Joker licked his lips with distaste. "...No more driving until you learn," he said, grabbing the case with his prize in it from the front seat. "Why the hell didnt you tell me you couldnt drive?" He walked into the warehouse, and Dolly followed.

"I was going to," she said, "but then I just figured you would tell me to learn quickly..." The Joker made a 'pfft' sound.

"At least I would have had some warning, then," he said. "I'm a firm believer in dumb luck, but god damn..." Dolly snorted, a smirk on her face, but she didnt retort. The fact that she knew he was paler under that makeup was enough for her.

_Five months ago:_

The Joker had become fully sure that Dolly was a completely master of crime. She had proven that when he commanded that she do a solo job of robbing a bank he had chosen--with no help from anyone. He gave her very specific commands, then let her fill in the details herself. He knew that she had lived in Gotham long enough to know that the bank he chose for her was the closest to the police department, and that it had some of the best security in Gotham. He also gave her the command that she would take no less than one million, she had a limited amount of ammunition, and that she couldnt hide her identity from the bank tellers, clients, or security cameras.

He didnt know the details, but she came back to the warehouse with over a million and a half in cash, only two bullets of her gun used, and not a scratch on her. He had heard later via the news from eyewitnesses that the bank had been robbed by two men who had been pulled off of the street and threatened by someone hiding her face from them. After they had robbed the bank and put the money in her car, she shot and killed them both and drove off.

The Joker questioned Dolly on her methods, and she said that she had followed his rules.

"You said that I was on my own," she said. "And by myself, I had two men rob the bank for me. You never said that I couldnt do that. And as for my identity...well, you said I couldnt hide it from the bank security. I never set foot in the bank, and you got your money regardless." She stuck her chopsticks back into the Chinese she had picked up on the way home.

The Joker had stared at her, then burst into a bout of maniac laughter. He calmed after a few moments, then grabbed a takeout box and helped himself to some General Tso's chicken.

_Four months ago:_

Dolly had earned little freedoms for her good work. The Joker allowed her to go out on her own unsupervised (though she did have a curfew that she had to religiously abide by), and let her carry her own weapons, and use them. He even let her keep one percent of any hit he ever got so she could buy her own things, however few there were. She rarely bought new clothes, ate mostly take-out, and the most expensive thing she ever actually bought was an MP3 player, and even that was only thirty-five dollars and could hold only 100 songs.

He was actually impressed with her simple tastes, but knew that it was mostly attributed to habit. She had grown up with next to nothing, and was now living with just above something. And he was just fine with that.

But he also discovered that she indeed did have one condition to their deal that she hadnt brought up, but rather, he had.

It had started out as a rough day to begin with; Dolly had been cynical and for lack of a better word, bitchy since she had woken up. It was grating on everyone's nerves, and finally, it was enough for the Joker when he had accidentally knocked over something that made a lot of noise. Two seconds later, a gunshot rang out and there was a small hole in the wall a foot from his head.

"_Shut up!_" he heard her scream from the other side of the warehouse. And that, he thought, was the last straw. He reached into his vest and snatched a blade up. He stalked into where she was sitting down reading a book with an irritated look on her face, snatched her book up, tossed it away, then picked her up and slammed her into the wall. He gripped her hair in his free hand and pressed the blade into her neck.

"You," he hissed, "have gotten on my _last_ nerve for today..._" _He licked his lips with irritation. "Now I said from the beginning that I wanted respect, and you, missy..." He pressed the blade deeper. "...Are not being respectful..." He was cut off from the rest of his scolding when Dolly suddenly shoved him away and put her hand to her neck where the blade was, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Never," she said lowly, "punish me with a knife..." She took her gun out of her jacket and put it in his hand. "I would rather you use this and blow my head sky high than use any kind of blade..." She sat back down and put her hands together in her lap. "If I am disrespectful or displease you, punish me with any other method..." She looked back up at him, her hand absently touching her abdomen, where the scar her father gave her resided. "But I will never let another blade touch my skin without putting up a fight."

The Joker looked almost thoughtful for a moment before picking up his knife and putting it back into his vest pocket. "...If that is your one condition," he said, "then very well. I wont put a blade to you ever again." He tossed the gun back to the couch. "Just watch your temper and take a Midol, and we'll not mention this again."

_Two months ago:_

Dolly, the Joker came to find out, was enjoying her job more than he really gave her credit for. Or was it that she just got comfortable channeling her hate? Either way, it was impressive. It was a fine March day, and the Joker hated fine days. Plus, it had been weeks since Dolly had any practice and was sitting at home, bored and flipping through the TV and stabbing anyone in the hand who tried to take the remote. Therefore, he gave Dolly a bomb, a video camera, and the keys to the Pontiac and told her to go have fun.

Later that night, well after she got home with some new books to read from the library, the Joker found a state of emergency on one of the news stations, with the reporter telling the audience that the Gotham police had received a video tape of someone tied to a chair and stammering as he read a piece of paper that told of a bomb connected to a surprise location of a random school principal. Was it their car? Their home, perhaps? Who knew? The man who was reading from the paper went on to read aloud that if these school officials were as smart as they were proclaimed to be, then they should know where it was. The video ended with the man being shot in the chest, then white noise.

The Joker looked over to Dolly, who was reading the children's book _Wayside School is Falling Down_, and grinned, knowing exactly where she had put the bomb.

The next day, Gotham PS 65 blew sky high with the principal and some staff members burning to Hell with it.

_One month ago: _

Dolly had checked out a book when she planted the bomb at her school about doll making, and decided to use her free time to make dolls. And she was damn good at it, the Joker noticed after she finished her first one in just two days. It was a lovely little thing, with pale painted skin, bright blue eyes, and long wavy brown locks. It was a marionette style, only without the strings, and she donned it in a simple makeshift dress from a shirt she had found and cut apart to sew up again. It actually was not bad for her first doll.

A few weeks later, she found that she could use her dolls for a more...practical use. Not to mention, she and the Joker found, the dolls made very good disguises for bombs. Wire the bombs in the dolls via control switch or pull-string switch, put the in a place where someone would find it, or not even notice it, then _KABOOM. _Instant fun.

* * *

As Dolly settled on the hard rock station and leaned back in her seat the Joker focused his attention back to his destination. Sure, he didnt get the help he wanted from Killa, but no sweat off his brow. There were other so-called 'crime lords' he could pillage and financially rape. He tuned out Dolly singing along to "Last Resort" by Papa Roach--and not so well, in his opinion--and made a turn to the main street as the smoke rose from the burning building behind him.

* * *

_Yes, yes, I put a few personal interests in there. But "Last Resort" seemed like a song Dolly would listen to. _

_Anyway, next chapter, Joker and Batman duke it out, and Dolly gets caught in the crossfire, thus putting the last piece in place for complete identity reinvention. Translation: pure villainess. _


	8. Chapter 8

_As usual, Tiger's Eye has made my day with her lovely illustrations and ideas. --bows-- I thank you, Miss!_

**Chapter 8**

As it turned out, after hearing about what happened to Killa, none of the other so-called 'crime-lords' wanted to meet the same fate. Ergo, when the Joker's calling card came with in invitation to gather together in one location for a convention of sorts, they all came, and they all came on time. The meeting was set for 8 pm sharp, but well after they had all come in and were ushered to their seats, the Joker was still nowhere to be seen.

Finally at fifteen after, one of the higher-level criminals--nicknamed "Freebie"--slammed his hands on the table. "That's it!" he shouted. "I've had it! I'm _out_ of here!" He made a move to stand up.

"If I were you, I wouldnt get up on my behalf..."

Everyone in the room--all fifteen of them--looked up to see the Joker waltz into the room with Dolly in tow, not looking at all sorry he was fifteen minutes late for his own meeting. He sat down at the head of the table, and Dolly stood next to him with her hands behind her back, looking sinfully innocent, as always. The Joker licked his lips and made a round-table point to everyone.

"I wouldnt suggest any of you move, either," he added. "Just sit back and enjoy the little powow, hm?" Freebie arched a brow, still looking ticked.

"Any why wouldnt you suggest we move?" said in a condescending tone. The Joker shrugged.

"No reason," he said. "I just figured you all liked being alive is all." There was a thick tension as he said that, and everyone sat stiff in their seat.

"...What do you mean?" Alek Chelleigh, a French and Russian-descended mob boss asked slowly. The Joker smirked, and Dolly grinned as she brought her hands from behind her back, revealing a small hand-held device, her thumb teasing the switch. Everyone tensed even more.

"I _mean_," the Joker emphasized, "that you are all sitting on weight-activated bombs, and if you get up before we have a chance to deactivate it..." He held up his hands and splayed his fingers, making a soft explosion sound. "...No more lords of the streets." He giggled madly as his guests broke out into cold sweats and cries of outrage, which were silenced when Dolly pressed her thumb harder onto the switch.

"But let's not let that little fact disrupt our funtime, hm?" the Joker continued, folding his hands on the table. Dolly lowered the detonator. "I've called you all here for a proposition, and I expect you to hear the whole thing before making any...rash decisions..." He looked pointedly around the table before licking his lips and continuing. "I dont seek your assets. I seek _you_." He paused for a moment to see if anyone knew what he was talking about. Upon seeing no lightbulb go on above anyone's heads, he made a soft sound and continued. "As the dubbed "Clown Prince of Crime", I seek all of you to be...my knights, in a manner of, erm, speaking..." He checked again for lights. A few flickered on, from what he could see. "Now, I'm saying that you may all keep whatever is yours; I am merely going to be delving into your assets whenever I need to for whatever I need. You will all be remaining the lords--and lady," he added, nodding at the only other female in the room, a Spanish woman--dubbed "Lady Red"--who specialized in illegal arms dealing. "...Of the streets." He spread his arms. "I will merely be your Prince."

There were expressions of outrage, but no one dared to speak up. The Joker eyed them all, licking his lips, as though _daring_ them to decline so he could blow them sky high. Seeing that no one was taking his dare, he made a soft sound in somewhat disappointment, but nodded. "I take it I have your cooperation then?" Several of the crime lords lowered their heads in defeat, and the Joker grinned in victory. "Well then!" He clasped his hands together. "I think that negotiations should be--."

He was cut off when he heard an alarm go off, and swore loudly, jumping to his feet. "God damn it..." He glared over the table. "...I'll deal with you later! Whichever one of you--!" He heard a gunshot go off outside the door and headed for the other exit. "...Oh, just dont get up!" He grabbed the detonator ran out of the door with Dolly right after him. He ran up a short flight of stairs and burst open a door, then ran for the getaway car, when he heard something whizz through the air a split second before it wound around his legs, effectively tripping him and sending him down.

A few moments later, Batman landed behind him from above and walked up to him before turning the Joker over onto his back with his foot. The Joker groaned with annoyance, as though Batman had tagged him out in a ballgame. "Ahh, cant ya pick on someone else for a change?!"

"Apparently not," Batman replied with that low, grating voice of his. "Not if you keep breaking out of Arkham, where you belong!" He bent down and grabbed the Joker by the shirt, dragging him up. The Joker bared his teeth at his nemesis.

"I do _not_ belong there," he ground out. "I am _not_ crazy!" Batman made a low sound in his throat.

"Not the diagnosis of every known psychiatrist on this side of the planet," he replied, dragging the Joker away by his arms to make sure he couldnt misuse them. "You're going back to that padded cell, and I'm going to _personally_ make sure you _never_ get out again!" The Joker started to laugh.

"Ah hah! You think that _you_ can keep me in that white hell hole!?" he giggled madly. "Unless you can stay awake twenty-four/seven, you've got another thing coming, Batsy..."

Batman looked down to tell him off when he heard a gun go off and a bullet hit his armored shoulder. He dropped the Joker and grabbed a bat-shaped shurikin and whipped it behind him. He didnt know if it hit or not, but the next thing he knew, the Joker kicked his legs out from under him, grabbed something in his jacket, then slammed it into his exposed cheek, revealing it to be a syringe of a clear liquid he couldnt identify. He back-fisted the Joker off of him, but right after, he felt incredibly weak and fell into unconsciousness.

The Joker tossed the syringe away and reached into his jacket for a knife to cut the bolas rope from his legs, picking a serrated blade. After he got the bolas off of him, he tossed the rope on Batman and brushed himself off, then after a moment of thought, took the detonator from his pocket and turned it off and tossed it carelessly away. He had plans for those 'crime lords' later, but right now, he needed to leave before those temporary tranques wore off in a few minutes.

A small sound snapped him at attention, and he looked over to see Dolly stumble out of the shadows, her face in her hands. He rolled his eyes and walked up to her. "Oh, what's wrong with you now?" he demanded, grabbing her hands to pull them from her face...then paused, frowning under his painted smile.

The entire left side of Dolly's face was smeared with blood that was pouring out of a deep gash running vertically from her forehead down over her eye, and ending over her cheekbone. But what really struck him was that the expression on her face wasnt of pain, but of a silent rage. Her hands were shaking and her remaining good eye was strained on Batman, a crazed look in them.

"...He...he cut me..." she stammered, her right eye twitching. "...A blade...he cut me with a blade...!" She suddenly broke away from the Joker to make a mad dash for the Batman, her hand diving in her own jacket for a knife. "_HE FUCKING CUT ME!!_" The Joker caught her arms from behind, and he pulled her away from the Batman and moved toward the car.

"Stop moving so much before you bleed to death!" the Joker commanded as he shoved her into the passenger seat. "You're no good to me dead!" He got in the driver's side and pressed the door lock as she pounded her fists on the window, leaving bloody smears on it.

_"He cut me! The motherfucker cut me!!"_ Dolly shrieked, her words somewhat garbled from the blood that seeped onto her lips. She pounded the window a few more times before letting out a crazed scream and leaned her head on the window, sobbing and pressing her hands to it.

The Joker focused on the road, occasionally flicking his gaze to her. He knew why she was crazed. She had said it before: she wouldnt let another blade touch her skin without putting up a fight. Batman was officially on the top of both her hit list and shit list, and that she wouldnt be satisfied until she gave him a scar of his own. From what he had seen, her left eye was useless now, and her face was scarred; that was a double-whammy. He thought back to what she had once said to him...

_"I could hide every other scar my father gave me...but I always protected my face...I never want a reminder every time I look at myself. I guess that's what kept me sane..."_

The Joker felt the corners of his lips twitch. If _that_ was what kept her sane...then she was long gone by now. Her existence was denied by those who brought her into it in the first place, and now, her face was scarred and her left eye was blind. She had nothing left to hold on to now.

And that was just perfect for him.

By the time he pulled into the warehouse, Dolly had regressed to soft sobs and was just leaning up against the cool window for some sense of relief of the pain. The Joker got out, went around, and got her out, pulling her up by one arm and leading her into the med room. This was going to take some very careful work, he knew.

* * *

Dolly didnt sleep; she merely drifted in and out of awareness for the next twelve hours after the Joker has finished stitching her wound. The left side of her face was now covered with gauze, and her right eye was staring blankly at the wall. The Joker walked in the next afternoon to make sure she was still alive, and found her staring at the wall. He stepped up next to her, blinked, then waved a hand in front of her face.

"...You still alive?" he asked. "Your brain didnt blow a fuse, did it?" Dolly blinked and shifted her gaze up to look at him. The Joker snorted. "Nice of you to join the land of the conscious." He set down a small box of Chinese. "Jojo made a run out for you to 'help you feel better'...you dont want to hurt his feelings by not eating, hm?" He watched her as she slowly sat up and reached out for the box and the chopsticks provided with it. The Joker snorted again and turned to leave, muttering something about odd motivations for his loony subordinates.

* * *

After Dolly had finished her Chinese, she got out of the bed and walked out of the room, heading for the bathroom, her mind still a furious blank and working on sheer mechanical memory. After she had shut the door and locked it, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

There were still some smears of blood on her face that the Joker hadnt bothered to clean up, and the gauze over the left side of her face had some dried blood that had bled through. After staring at it for a moment, she slowly reached up and peeled the medical tape and gauze from her face and dropped it into the sink, then looked at herself. The left side of her face was angry reddened, and stitches ran down over her eye, which was bloody red with a faded pale blue iris. For how long she stared at it, she didnt know, but she raised her hand and gently touched the stitching, ignoring the stinging pain at her touch.

Somewhere in her furious blank mind, a thought occurred. ...It wasnt so awful, was it? Not in terms of looks per se, but...the situation? She already had a chip against Batman for not coming for her...but now..._now_...she had a reason for him to be her enemy other than the fact that he was her boss's enemy. He had cut her skin...he had crossed that line. She wouldnt have given a damn if he had blown half her face off, or even one of her breasts off. She wouldnt have cared so much, but _this_...he had used a blade. And on her _face_ no less. Now, she had to look at this every day. And every time she looked, the chip on her shoulder would grow deeper, and it would only make her want to drive a screwdriver into his forehead, twisting as it went deeper and deeper. And then, she would give him a nice pretty scar to match hers...

She focused on her face again, and tipped her head slightly to the side. No...it wasnt so bad...a scar...wasnt so bad. She had seen the Joker without his makeup before, and despite his own scars, he looked like a normal, handsome man. She still looked like a normal, pretty girl...but 'normal' and 'handsome' werent words that the Joker even had in his personal dictionary. So why should those words apply to her? Dolly opened up the medicine cabinet, and her eye landed on the one thing no one else in the warehouse was allowed to touch.

His makeup.

Her eye settled on the red and black colors, and her lips curled up into a small smile.

* * *

The Joker reclined on the couch, a slightly peeved look on his face. Every single one of the fifteen crime lords had cooperated with the police--and Batman--against him. This would make things a little difficult; he was torn between scaring the little pawns back onto his chess board, and blowing the lot of them to Hell. Ah, decisions, decisions...

He didnt look away from the TV, even when he felt someone sit down on the other side of it. He knew that the only one with the balls to sit down with him was Dolly, so he disregarded it. "Back from the dead I see..." he muttered, changing channels. "Decided to stop obsessing over...?" He shifted his gaze over to her, and broke off.

Dolly was sitting straight on the couch, her legs crossed and her hands folded neatly on her knee. But what had caught his attention was that she was wearing the black and red doll outfit he had gotten for her six months ago. She had also appeared to have brushed her hair and put it into loose pigtails. He was staring at her face in profile, the left side turned to him, and she wasnt covering her scar, though he could see her lips were a shade of red he recognized perfectly, though it was neatly applied, rather than slathered on, and her lips were curled into a childish gentle smile.

Upon hearing his words cut off, Dolly turned to look at him, and showed that her right eye was painted up with red on her eyelids and black lining them. She seemed to have then added her own touch by putting a matching black line down her right face over her eye to match the scar on the left.

In short, in that moment of looking at her, she epitomized her given name in appearance. A doll.

Dolly smiled at him. "...I am, as a matter of fact, Boss," she said, her voice lightened in tone to sound child-like. "...And ready to report back to work."

* * *

_The birth of the true Dolly has commenced! --insert evil laugh here-- _

_Next chapter, timeskip and a detail of what Dolly has become._


	9. Chapter 9

_As for an earlier comment...Miss Michieru, who do you think Dolly is again? I fail to understand. --blank look--_

**Chapter 9**

_Six months later..._

The underground exotic dance club--dubbed "Juicy Fruits"--was relatively packed tonight. There was a buzz going around about a new dance girl that every pervert and voyeur in Gotham simply _had_ to see, and now there were a few fights over who got the front row seat. But as soon as the doors opened just one moment before show time and bouncers cleared the area, it was clear who was getting the front row.

Texan-born card shark James Earlingston, better known around Gotham's underbelly as "Wild Ace" and the city's highest gross-earning crime lord was getting the front seat tonight. He sat down and leaned back, snapping his fingers for a scotch on the rocks, and getting it five seconds later, and as he was sipping it, the lights dimmed and the music started playing "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard.

The prized girl of the evening stepped out in a burst of white light, wearing a white and sugar pink frilly doll-like ensemble that as soon as the tempo began to pick up, she grabbed the skirt part and tore it off, now wearing a cut-off white strapless top and sugar pink Daisy Dukes along with white stilletto boots. As the song went on, she danced, swinging her perfectly curved hips and taking occasional dip-and-waves, running her hands over her body and licking her lips sensually, letting her dirty-blonde hair fall around her face.

Ace let his eyes roam her perky little body, licking his own lips in voyeuristic pleasure for the next four minutes of the song, taking a _very_ strong interest in the way she flirtatiously winked at him. As the song was coming to an end, he summoned the bodyguard to his left and muttered something to him, then went back to watching the girl as her routine came to an end. The girl sexily took off a pink and white garter she was wearing and threw it into the crowd; as Ace deftly caught it, the girl walked off the stage. This seemed to be a cue, for the bodyguard followed after her backstage, and Ace followed the guard a few moments later.

Up in the balcony, a humored observer watched Wild Ace follow the girl to the backstage. He knew that Ace would be here tonight...the man was a bigger pervert than all get-out, and loved to sample the flavor of the evening--and sometimes kill them. But he wasnt worried. He downed his drink and licked a drop off of his lips, smearing his red makeup a little. He had to have a little talk with Acey Boy anyway, and the 'flavor of the evening' was just the person to bring him at attention...

* * *

Wild Ace watched the dance girl walk down the ally through the tinted windows of his car, staring mostly at her moving backside than anything else as his driver slowly drove down the ally road, coming up next to the girl. From the way she danced, he couldnt wait to see how she would fair in the back seat; not that she would have a choice. She would either put out, or he'd kill her and have his way with her corpse anyway.

And then, just as his door and her were parallel, he quickly opened it, grabbed her, and dragged her in then shut it, cuing the driver to start driving faster.

Ace noticed that the girl didnt cry out, or try to escape; she just let herself be dragged into the car. It was odd, but Ace wasnt complaining. He put his arm around her and grinned lewdly. "Hey there, beautiful," he drawled, eyeing her over. She hadnt bothered to cover up after her show, and her curves were alluring indeed. The girl said nothing, but just smiled innocently and stared him in the eye. "How about we..." He stroked his other hand down her thigh. "...Get to know each other a little more?"

The girl's smiled widened and her eyes batted gently. Ace took that as a 'yes' and leaned forward to kiss at her neck, taking a bit of time to flick his tongue over her sweet-smelling skin. The girl leaned her head to the side to expose her neck more, and Ace didnt hesitate to take the invitation. He turned the girl so she was leaning against the locked door--it was safety locked anyway--and kissed and licked at her neck and chest while she put her arms around him, coaxing him closer.

Ace pulled back up after a minute and reached down to unbuckle his belt, his fingers slipping occasionally in his haste. "You're just a little ball of fire, aint ya?" he asked, his voice breathy from arousal. The girl just gave him a brighter smile, and then Ace looked down to finally get his belt properly undone. He didnt notice the girl pull a small syringe out of her glove, and didnt have time to even react when she suddenly jammed the needle into his neck.

Wild Ace only had five seconds to struggle through consciousness before slumping forward onto her. She made a soft scoffing sound and pushed him off of her, then grabbed his gun from the holster under his jacket and peeked around the seat of the driver and pressed it into his temple. The driver swerved a little, but regained back on track.

"You just do what I say, and you can live," she said softly, reaching up to rub the left side of her face, lifting something under a slather of makeup, and peeling it off, revealing a scar. The driver nodded and followed her directions to the T and after about a half hour of driving, finally made it to a warehouse. He stopped on her command, and got out to open the door for her. She stepped out, cracked her neck, then shot him in the head just as some men came out of the warehouse.

Dolly pointed the gun to the car. "He's in there," she said, walking toward the warehouse and rubbing her neck. "...I need antibacterial..."

* * *

When Wild Ace woke up, it was a little dark. It was a moment before he registered that he was lying face-down on a concrete floor, and groaned as a headache from Hell throbbed in the back of his head.

"Well well," came a drawling voice in front of him. "...The Wild Texan Ace awakes..."

Ace lifted his head--ignoring the extra-painful throb--and blinked a few times to clear his vision before seeing a purple-clad person sitting cross-legged in a large chair, a wide red smile adorning his white face. Ace took a moment to register the picture, then paled, knowing just who he was staring at.

The Joker laughed softly at the expression on Wild Ace's face. "Why so serious, Ace?" he snickered. "I only brought you here because I wanted to talk...you're awfully hard to find, you know..." He turned to look to the side, and Ace followed the gaze, seeing the dance girl from before, only now she was wearing a black and purple doll-like dress with black Mary Janes and her hair up in pigtails. Ace also saw that she had a long scar running vertically down her left eye, which was paled out in blindness. The entire left side of her face was free of makeup, though her right side had purple eyeshadow and her lips were purple as well.

She smiled almost sweetly at him and waved her hand as she walked over to the Joker's chair and sat down on the left arm. Wild Ace paled considerably.

"I...I didnt realize...!" he stuttered, flicking his eyes back and forth between Joker and Dolly. "...I didnt know she was your whore!"

There was a collection of uncomfortable and ominous sounds from the Joker's henchmen, though the Joker snorted and Dolly giggled humorously. The Joker's laughter escalated until it almost echoed throughout the crowded room.

"My _whore_, Acey Boy?" he said after he calmed slightly. "You think Dolly here is my whore?" He shook his head, chuckling. "That's not the nicest thing to say about my dear little girl, now is it?" If it were possible, Ace paled even more.

"I...I...!" he stuttered again. Dolly's smile widened at his obvious discomfort. "...She's your da...?"

"Ah, no no no," the Joker interrupted, shaking his head. "She's not my _daughter_, Acey." He leaned back putting his hand loosely around her waist. "She's something better.

"But right now, I just wanna talk about _you_..." He put on a grin. "...I dont know if you know this or not, but I am known throughout Gotham as the "Clown Prince of Crime"...and I know that since you came here from Texas four months ago, the title of "Ace King"..." He paused. "...Kinda inconsistant if you ask me, but hey," he shrugged, "what do I know about cards other than the only one that really matters?" He laughed as he threw a deck of cards at Ace, but upon landing and scattering to the floor, showed all fifty-one cards to be the jokers.

"Now," the Joker continued, "the problem I have is that in Gotham..." He spread his arms. "There can only be one king. And quite frankly..." His voice took a darker tone as he licked his lips. "...I just dont think you're cut out for the job..." He leaned back in the chair again. "I have no problem letting you live, but I want you to never answer to the title of "King" again..." He paused to lick his lips and make sure Ace was paying attention. "...And relinquish your assets to me, and me alone."

Wild Ace, who had felt nothing but fear for his life up until this point, suddenly had a rising anger in his chest. "I dont _think_ so, you freak!" he spat, sitting up on the floor. "Do you have _any_ idea what I had to go through for what I have!? I dont think you do!" He stood up, ignoring the henchmen around him reaching for their weapons. "It took me twenty years to get what I have, and I'm not just handing it over to a crazy circus freak like _you_!"

The Joker's expression took a very dark turn, and the henchmen actually took a step back. Dolly just pursed her lips and looked away. The Joker slowly stood up and made his way to Ace, motioning with his hand to the henchmen around him. Two of them darted forward and held Wild Ace in place as the Joker pulled out his switchblade and grabbed Ace's head, holding it still and pressing the blade to his cheek.

"...Do you want to know how I got these scars?" the Joker asked softly, his voice taking the insane higher pitch. Ace began to sweat again and the Joker moved his knife to the corner of his lips. "You see, I used to be friends with a card shark...such as yourself..." He licked his lips. "...And he was as good a gamer as they came...and he said that we would split the profits...fifty...fifty. But you see, he was a very, very greedy man. Cared only for money. Then, one day, some money went missing, and who do you think he blames?" He gestured to himself with his knife before putting it back into Ace's mouth. "He ties me to a chair and holds up a card..." The Joker reached into his jacket and pulled out a joker card. "...And asks me if he thought that making a fool of him was funny...I of course say no, but he says "Oh no...it is, Mister Joker...it is..."..." He licked his lips frantically. "And then he takes his knife...and..." He pressed the blade a little further against the corner of Ace's mouth, nicking it a little, then suddenly pulled away.

"...He cuts me." The Joker backed away, snickering a little. "...But right now, this isnt my punishment to administer..." He turned back to Dolly, who had relocated to his seat and was leaning her head against her hand to watch interestedly. "You see, the greatest insult wasnt against me...it was against my Dolly Dearest..." He gestured for her to come over. "Because you see...you insulted the Harlequin Princess...and she isnt one to insult without being punished..." As he spoke, Dolly walked over to them, the same innocent expression on her face.

She came to a stop in front of them, and the Joker moved away. "He's all yours, Princess," he said, then walked back over to his chair and sat down to watch. Dolly looked at Wild Ace with that innocent expression that actually scared him, and she reached out to cup his face and lean forward to put her face barely half an inch from his. Wild Ace gulped a little then flinched when her hands slid down to wrap around his neck.

"That was a very mean thing to say to me," she said, and he was surprised that despite her sweet appearance, her voice was very mature and scathing, almost like hearing a kitten scratch a chalkboard. Her hands tightened. "...I hope you treat the Devil better than you treated me..." She nodded to the two henchmen, who let go of Wild Ace as she put all of her pressure on his throat. Wild Ace struggled against her, grabbing at her arms to try to wrench them away. But he was shocked at her strength; she didnt give a single inch--a twitch, even. He reached up to try to hit her, but her thumbnails penetrated his throat flesh, and he gave a strangled cry as blood spurted forth and her hands tightened even more.

The moments passed, and finally, a death rattle uttered from Ace's throat signified his last breath, and he fell limp in Dolly's hold. Dolly smiled passively, and let him go, then flicked her hands to get the excess blood off of them, then rethought and wiped them off on his expensive leather coat before turning back to the Joker, who clapped.

"Wonderful," he said, grinning. "Truly awe-inspiring. Really." He waved his hand. "Pin an ace to his forehead and dump him somewhere." Dolly stopped the henchmen from doing so, and reached into Ace's coat herself to pull out a pack of cards, and picked out the ace of spades, then pulled out a small knife from her garter-hold and jammed them both to Ace's forehead before picking out the red joker card and tucking it into his coat pocket.

The henchmen dragged Wild Ace away, and Dolly turned to walk back up to the Joker's chair and leaned against it. "What a night," she said, wiping her hands off on her dress. "I dont think I'll be getting the stench of that cheap cologne of his off of me for a week..."

The Joker laughed and shook his head. "Well, at least he's out of the way now," he replied. "Another piece taken out of the picture." He looked at her. "...Interesting way of doing away with him," he said. Dolly put her innocent look on again. "You've been working on your grip?"

"Yes I have, as a matter of face," she said, flexing her fist. "I'm working on benchpressing 200..." The Joker whistled through his teeth.

"That much already?" he asked. He didnt wait for Dolly to answer. "Your birthday is in a week, yes?" Dolly nodded.

"It is," she said. "Why?" The Joker reached into his jacket and pulled out a lavish-looking invitation.

"I have a special treat for you," he said, holding it up for her to take. "Mister Bruce Wayne is throwing a Halloween party." Dolly took the invite and read it.

"Nice," she replied, reading it over. "...Uh, Boss...this invitation is for Lord Erick Elloway and his daughter Madeline..." The Joker snickered.

"They couldnt make it," he replied, grinning. "I told them I'd go in their place...in their names..." Dolly smiled.

"Oh, how nice of you," she said, folding the invitation up. "...But seriously, why are we going to Bruce Wayne's party, of all places?"

"Oh, no real reason," he said, leaning back in his chair, though his voice and the expression on his face said very much otherwise. "...No real reason..."

* * *

_Ooooooh...whatever will happen? Pfft, just wait!_

_Next chapter, the Halloween party is crashed and a fight breaks out! Whooyeah!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Quite frankly, I kinda channeled Knight's Tale Heath in this one. Just a little, really._

**Chapter 10**

Bruce Wayne didnt really know what had possessed him to throw a Halloween party, especially when criminals and punks dubbed Halloween as 'Crime Party Night'. But he had been somewhat reclusive lately--aside from his nighttime right-doing, that is--and of course one of Alfred's infamous ideas had come into play and the next thing he knew, invitations for 300-plus people were sent out, with 298 affirmative RSVPs. It was a costume ball-type gig, but he had made it clear that no masks were allowed. This way, in case someone--the Joker was his primary concern--decided to crash, at least they would be identified.

He was ready for the beginning of this party; Alfred insisted that Bruce personally greet everyone like a good host. Bruce was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, complete with a black cape with red silk inner trimming and a half mask that covered most of the right side of his face, and white gloves. Alfred had simply chosen not to dress up for this one.

At least the guests were punctual; at eight sharp, they began to arrive en mass. The costumes were exquisite; more like a masquerade ball than anything, sans the masks, of course. Only a few--women, mostly--were dressed somewhat raunchy; one girl was even a playboy bunny. But everyone was getting along, and since Bruce himself was greeting the guests, he knew who came in and who was whom.

Finally, the end of the list came with just two more people due to arrive, who were late. Bruce didnt really have time to wait for them, as a good host mingled. So he did just that. He mingled, talked, and 'flirted' with the single ladies. The playboy bunny especially seemed interested, as she stuck by his side like glue and shamelessly flirted with him like the spoiled little rich girl she was.

Finally around ten-thirty, things were settling down into comfortable mingling, drinking, conversing, and a few were dancing. Bruce was actually feeling bored. Surprise, surprise. He was stuck in a penthouse with spoiled blue bloods instead of out in Gotham, doing something productive. Despite the obvious benefits, being rich sometimes sucked, for lack of a better word. He was actually near falling asleep because of the mindless drone and drone and drone of the younger girls he was stuck in the middle of, for the love of all that was--

"Master Bruce."

Bruce snapped to attention, hoping to God Almighty that something was on fire. "Yes, what is it, Alfred?" he asked, sneaking away from the girls. Alfred nodded toward the entrance.

"Your final guests have arrived," he said. "A Lord Erick Elloway and his daughter Madeline."

"Ah," Bruce said, nodding. He had been expecting them. Lord Elloway was a businessman from England who was about as rich as he was, and had land and property all over the world. He had never met or seen the man, but just knew enough about him to invite him to the party to get to know him better. He learned that Erick Elloway himself was a rich, divorced philanthropist and had just one 22-year-old daughter. He turned to the door to greet them himself, and blinked slightly.

Lord Erick Elloway himself was decked out in a red, white, and black outfit with multiple layers and decorated with elaborate hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs. His dark brown hair was slicked back and his face was decked in white paint with a red diamond over his right eye. Holding onto his arm was who Bruce assumed to be his daughter, Madeline. She had long blonde hair that was tied back and shaped like a heart in the back of her head. Her dress consisted of a red corset with the top front cut out in the shape of a heart with three smaller hearts stamped out below it. Underneath the red corset was a black undercloth, as were her arm gloves. The long skirt of her dress was also red, and ended with a short black trail that had a heart-shaped tie in the back of the dress. Her face was also white, and she had a red heart over her left eye and red eyeshadow on her right. Her lips were dually colored, with the upper lip black and the lower lip red.

Bruce stepped up to them and held out his hand to Lord Elloway. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Elloway," he said. Lord Elloway gave him a half-grin.

"Likewise, Mister Wayne," he said, his voice soft and his accent eloquent. He turned to the girl on his arm. "And might I introduce my daughter, Madeline?" Madeline kept her strong violet eyes on Bruce's as she curtsied delicately.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Madeline," Bruce said, holding out his hand. Madeline took it and he pressed his lips to the back of it. Madeline gave him a sinfully innocent smile, which Bruce returned. Madeline straightened back up and stepped forward to take his arm gently in her hands. "...If I'm not mistaken...the Queen of Hearts?" he continued, looking over her costume. Madeline smiled more broadly and nodded.

Lord Elloway's grin spread to straighten. "That she is, Mister Wayne," he said. "The little Heart Princess to the King of the Deck." He put his hands behind his back and nodded to the two of them. "I believe I shall find myself a brandy. Wonderful to meet you, Mister Wayne. I do hope we may converse again." That said, he walked his way through the crowd and disappeared, leaving Bruce with Madeline on his arm with her smiling at him.

At that particular moment, the orchestra struck up a lovely tune for dancing and Bruce looked over to see a bare spot on the floor. "Would you care to dance, Madeline?" he asked. Madeline nodded and Bruce led her to the dance floor, and put one hand to her waist and took her hand in his other. The other guests watched on as Bruce Wayne danced with the new girl who had a very lovely costume that actually complemented his own. They began a slow and well-paced waltz that the other guests admired and most of the girls found to be jealous of.

While they danced, Bruce was pleased to find that Madeline was not clinging to him. Her entire demeanor and the way she held herself was distancing, as though she were dancing with just another face in the world. It was actually refreshing compared to the other girls he had danced with before, where they clung to him and their hands sometimes went where they aught not go. She also didnt seem to be conceited like those other girls, either; which he found to be odd. She was most definitely rich, and she was also very pretty. But she had an air of humility about her; something he found to actually be attractive...

While the hot couple of the evening danced, one solitary person watched from the bar area with careful, calculating eyes, as though waiting for a right moment. And it did come when the last person walked over to the crowded area to watch the couple dance, leaving him alone. He looked around for a moment more before slipping out of the room and into the hall.

The song came to an end and Bruce twirled Madeline out, then back in, and the crowd around them clapped and muttered about how adorable it was. Bruce took Madeline by the waist and led her out to the outside balcony area, where the evening air was cool. There were no sirens he could hear, so he wasnt really about to ditch his party, or Madeline for that matter. "You dance very well," he said, smiling at her. Madeline smiled back.

"Thank you," she replied. She said nothing more, really, as she leaned her arms against the railing and stared out over Gotham. Bruce stood close next to her.

"...How do you like Gotham?" he asked, honestly interested in the girl. Madeline sighed.

"...I have...quite honestly been better," she said. "...Not everyone...is as nice or polite as you are, Mister Wayne."

"Please, call me Bruce," he replied. "...And I do have to admit that you are right. Though...not everyone is polite...fewer have manners proper for a lady such as yourself." Madeline looked at him, her violet eyes seeming to glow from the dim light.

"You're too kind," she said softly. "Really. And you are right. There _are_ very few people with manners left in the world..." She cut off when she felt Bruce put his hand gently on hers and stood next to her, looking out over Gotham. She didnt protest, but rather leaned closer to him.

The droll of the other guests and the sound of the music was dulled out as they both looked over Gotham City, but through the dull noise, Bruce's trained hearing picked up something that sounded suspicious. His suspicions were affirmed when he heard some of the guests gasp, then scream as things crashed. He whipped around and ran for the door. "Stay out here!" he called over his shoulder, then shut the balcony doors and locked them and disappeared into the crowd.

The lady of the evening stared after him, then looked at the ones responsible for causing all the mayhem. Surprising enough, they werent working for the Joker. They were random losers that decided to crash the party of the richest man in Gotham. And she was missing it? Bull. Shit.

Dolly grabbed the skirt of her costume and tore it off, revealing that underneath were minishorts and thigh-high red stockings and black stilletos. A belt was hung around her hips, and attached to the belt were two large guns and a small pack of extra ammunition. Strapped around her thigh in a smaller holster was a handgun. Dolly grabbed the hand gun and shot at the glass that made up the door, not caring that a few people were hit, and stepped back into the penthouse. She wasnt about to let any kind of plan her boss might have in mind be ruined because of some fourth-rate punks.

The sound of gunshots going off made most of the people turn around and stare at her, the break-ins included. She slowly but fearlessly walked toward where they were apparently attempting to abduct or intimidate Bruce. The crashers took one look at her and started to laugh.

"Oh, what's she gonna do?" one of them asked the others.

"Oooh, how scary!" another added. The rest of them laughed and turned their attentions back to Bruce, who had his hands where they could see them, and trying to tell them not to hurt any of his guests. One of them poked at Bruce's side with his gun and opened his mouth to pick on him a little more when a shot rang out and he fell over dead from a bullet to the head.

Bruce snapped his head up to see who he thought to be Madeline with her gun hand still raised. The guests drew back and some of them screamed. Dolly pointed her gun at the next person who was holding Bruce hostage and clicked back the hammer. "I have three rounds left," she said, dropping her English accent. "And there are three of you left. Back off from our gracious host before I blow you all to Hell." The others didnt drop their guns, and just two seconds later, Dolly knew why when she felt a gun barrel against the back of her neck.

"No..._you_ back off before I blow _you_ to Hell, Miss Elloway." The man behind her pressed the gun closer to her neck, and Dolly just stood there. "Drop your gun." Dolly remained still, and then heard something behind the both of them, a light 'tsk'-like sound. "_Now!_" Dolly lowered her gun hand and loosened her hold on the gun. Just before she was about to drop it, she smirked, and a second later, a shot rung out and the man behind her slumped dead on the ground.

"Now now," said a higher-pitched man's voice with an insane edge. "This is a party. No need for such..." Another shot rang out and one of the men next to Bruce dropped dead. "...Violence."

The crowd parted and drew back as the Joker came out of the crowd, a large gun in his hand and his makeup smeared over his face. Bruce took one look at him, and noticed that the black makeup over his right eye looked like a smudged diamond. That, and his hair didnt have that green tint to it and was now purely a messy brown. And Bruce felt like a total ass for not realizing it from the start. He felt like even more of an ass when the Joker stepped up next to the girl, who was apparently his accomplice, as she didnt seem to care that Gotham's Clown Prince of Crime was in her general vicinity. The crowd began to get rowdy again, but this time, it was the girl next to the Joker who raised her hand gun and shot into the air to silence them all.

The remaining party crashers backed up from both the psycho duo and Bruce Wayne, their hands up. They knew better than to mess with the Joker, or anyone who associated personally with him. And if his accomplice said back off from Bruce, they did so.

The Joker turned to a guest not too far from him and snatched up his glass of champaign and took a swig. "Nice party, Brucey," he said after tossing the almost-empty glass behind him, where it crashed to pieces somewhere. "Just wondering why I wasnt invited..." He leered at the playboy bunny girl, who to his delight squeaked and started to whimper. "I'm great at parties."

Bruce narrowed his eyes and took a side-step for the door. "I think we _both_ know why you were not invited," he said, his back straightening. He flicked his eyes over to the girl at the Joker's side. "...You...or your date." His frown only deepened when the Joker began to laugh in that atrocious manner that made both his and Batman's blood boil.

After a few moments of insanity, the Joker shook his head. "I dont know _why_ everyone jumps to that conclusion," he said, mostly to himself. He then focused his attention back to Bruce. "She's not my date, Brucey. No. But she _is_ with me. And we're here to blow this party up Satan's a--"

The Joker was cut off when another shot rang out and a pullet was plowed into his shoulder. It stung like a bitch, but it didnt stop him from whipping around to shoot in the direction he was shot at. He managed to kill one of the punks that had broken in, but only after shooting four guests and killing one.

The room went into chaos again, and everyone scattered about. Both the Joker and Dolly lost sight of Bruce, but both began to run around the crowd to find the remains of the crashers and kill them. They found that there were five left, aside from the ones that they had already killed. And as Dolly had previously concluded, they were nothing but fourth-rate punks with bad aim and even worse force behind hits. One of them actually had the nads to punch her in the face, even. Dolly had blinked after she was hit, then grabbed her larger gun attached to her belt and blew him to Hell.

The entire crises left all of the crashers and about fourteen guests dead and thirty wounded. Thought the Joker wasnt took keen on guns, Dolly had tossed him her other one and were now just plain having fun.

The fun didnt last long, however, because not too long after the riot started, who should have come break it all up but Batman, who went after Dolly first. Dolly was shooting at a chandelier to make it fall, and she was tackled from behind and quickly disarmed, then in one quick motion, her hands were bound behind her back. Dolly growled and glared at Batman, who left her on the floor to go after the Joker.

The Joker had seen his accomplice be disarmed and made a break for the door, grabbing some young woman as a hostage en route. After he made it to the door, he turned and pointed his gun at her head, holding securely with his other arm. Batman stopped just two yards away, his eyes narrowed. "Let her go," he hissed, his hand twitching for something to use against the Joker.

The Joker pressed the gun closer to the woman. "Let me go first," he said, his finger tightening on the trigger. The woman let out a sob and stared pleadingly at Batman for help. The Joker noticed her look and licked his lips frantically. "...Let me go first."

Batman flicked his eyes over to where Dolly was and then back at the Joker. "And your...partner?" he queried. The Joker scoffed.

"I really could give a shit," he said. "She can take care of herself. Let me go or this little sweetheart dies." To add onto the already tense situation, he licked her cheek, making her sob louder.

Batman felt his hands twitch in agitation. The Joker smirked. "Decisions, decisions, hm?" he said, giggling. "Tick tock, tick tock..."

"Let her go, and I'll let you go," Batman finally said, his hands clenching. The Joker arched a brow.

"...Tempting." He stood silent for a moment, then pushed the girl away from himself and into Batman's arms. Batman caught her, then grabbed his small bolas gun and fired as the Joker turned to start running. As he thought, the Joker's legs were bound and he pitched forward into the floor.

Batman let the girl go, and the riot started to die down as the cops burst into the penthouse, Commissioner Gordon first. All they found was the Joker with his legs bound and hand propping up his head in what looked like annoyance, and Dolly with her arms still bound behind her back and sitting on the floor looking like a punished child. Batman had vanished.

* * *

_For the record, "Blow this party up Satan's ass" is copy-writed by me. Ha ha ha. _

_Next chapter, Batman talks to the Joker and Dolly, and learns the disturbing truth behind the Joker keeping Dolly._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A special armored car was sent out to hold the Joker and his accomplice, and after the Joker was handcuffed, they were both put into the car. None of the other cops would dare get in with them, no matter how well-bound they both were, so Commissioner Gordon sent a message ahead to the station for everyone to be ready and heavily armed. The Joker and Dolly were thrown into the car, and they headed back to the station.

When they got back, Gordon ordered that everyone be armed and aiming at the car, then unlocked and opened the door. Inside, neither of them so much as moved, but Gordon noticed something that set him on edge. Dolly's handcuffs were on the floor of the car, and her hands were in her lap. Her gloves were missing, but then Gordon saw that they were tied under the Joker's arm over his shoulder to stop the bleeding from his bullet wound. But since neither of the convicts made any threatening moves, Gordon boarded the car and put the handcuffs back on Dolly and kept her at bay while the armed cops pulled the Joker out first and dragged him off to the cells. Gordon followed, but not before noticing that there was a hairpin on the floor where the handcuffs were earlier.

After disarming the two of any weapons--the Joker of course had a jubilee of sharp things hidden everywhere on his person and Dolly had two boot knives on her--they put them, with the handcuffs still on, in the cells where they were away from everyone else.

Gordon was a little paranoid about the Joker being back in the police station again, considering what had happened four years ago, but at this point, he wasnt going to let the Joker--or his partner--out of his sight. Or at least until Batman came. The Dark Knight had talked to him earlier, expressing his want to talk to the Joker again about something. Gordon gave his consent while he and a few men questioned about the other girl.

And that was where the Joker found himself; in that nostalgic dark room with his handcuffs still on and his shoulder throbbing with the bullet still lodged in it. He really didnt even care if Batman was behind him waiting to bash his head into the table again. He just sat there, still and staring straight ahead and not bothering to give anyone else a second glance. Despite what he was actually expecting, the door ahead of him opened and Batman walked in, almost blending into the shadows. The corners of the Joker's lips turned up ever-so-slightly.

"We meet again," the Joker said softly, his dark eyes surveying the even darker-clad nemesis in front of him. Batman narrowed his eyes and glided forward to pull a chair up to the other side of the table and sit down. "...What? No friendly head-bashing into the table?"

Batman made a low sound in his throat. "Dont tempt me," he growled. "First things first. What were you doing at Bruce Wayne's Halloween party?"

The Joker blinked. "Why was I there?" he said. "Well, it was dear Dolly's birthday, and she's been a little down lately..."

"Just answer the question!" At Batman's interruption, the Joker gave him a mock-glare.

"I was _getting_ to that...patience..." He licked his lips. "...Well anyway, Dolly seemed to be having a wonderful time dancing with Brucey, who seemed to have taken a liking to her." He ignored the menacing look Batman gave him. "And it would have gone a lot better if those little bastards hadnt crashed the party. Dolly might have gotten laid, who knows?" He smirked when he noticed Batman's hands twitch. "...You want to know the _real_ reason, dont you?"

"...That would make your chances of getting strangled much slimmer."

The Joker laughed. "Alright, Batsy, you win." He folded his hands on the table and bend forward, licking his lips. "I went to that party in hopes that you would show up...and we be sitting here." He leaned back, smirking. "And hopes fulfilled."

This took Batman aback. "...You wanted _this_ to happen." It wasnt a question, but the Joker nodded anyway. "...Why?"

The Joker bent forward again. "Not for _me_," he said pointedly. "I wanted you to meet Dolly Dearest." Batman narrowed his eyes.

"...That girl in the next room?" The Joker nodded. "...Why did you want me to meet her?" The Joker shifted his eyes to the two-way mirror, then back to Batman.

"...This is a conversation for just the two of us," he said. "It isnt for...other's ears..." He glared over at the window. Batman looked at the window and nodded. He waited a few moments, trusting that Gordon trusted him enough for this.

"Why did you want me to meet her?"

The Joker grinned and licked his lips again. "How did she come off to you?" he asked. "I know that you have a thing for picking out strength in one's eyes. I could see your uncertainty when we first talked like this." He gestured between the two of them. "You had never encountered someone like me, I could tell. Now..." He leaned forward. "...What did the way Dolly looked at you say?"

Batman lowered his gaze from the Joker as he thought back to when he was back in the penthouse after he had bound Dolly's hands behind her back. He remembered how she had glared at him; and just now, he could see how sharp her violet eyes dug into his soul with such..._hate_. It was a hate that dug almost as deep as the madman sitting in front of him.

The Joker noticed the expression in Batman's eyes change and withheld a giggle. "You noticed to too, I gather?" Batman looked back up at him. "Yeah. Anyone who's ever worked for me thinks the exact same thing. We're a lot alike, they say..." He shrugged. "And I cant really argue."

Batman looked the Joker in the eye again. "Who is she?" The Joker grinned as though he knew some dirty little secret. Which he did, but he wasnt throwing Batman any bones.

"Her name is Dolly," the Joker replied, then said nothing more.

"Where did you find her? Another Arkham escapee?" The Joker snorted.

"God no," he said. "I picked her up off of a bus." Batman blinked, but continued.

"Just...what is she to you?" He looked on as the Joker put on a thoughtful face.

"She...is an enigma," the Joker said after a few moments. "An intriguing enigma..." He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Even I am surprised that I havent killed her yet..."

Batman blinked. "'Yet'?" he asked. The Joker shrugged.

"She has a bit of a temper," he said. "And she's a little smart at times. She doesnt hesitate to fire a bullet in my direction while she's PMSing, and that nearly got her killed..." He licked his lips and leaned back in his seat. "But she's still alive, and still kicking."

Batman thought for a moment. "But why keep her?" he finally asked. "You said back at the penthouse that you didnt care about what happened to her--"

"And I _dont_," the Joker interrupted. "I dont care about her at all. But in a sense, I _need _her, and her getting stuck in County or Arkham would _really_ put a damper on my plans for her."

That caught Batman's attention. "...'Plans'...?" he said. "What plans?" The Joker blinked slowly, his face breaking out into a grin almost as wide as the makeup.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said gleefully. "And I'll be happy to tell you, _more_ than happy, really." He leaned back further, balancing the chair on two legs. "Just for the sake of letting you know beforehand..."

Batman _really_ didnt like how that sounded. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice deepening. The Joker bit his lower lip as though to keep from laughing.

"My little Dolly," he finally said after letting Batman stew for a bit, "is perhaps the greatest find in Gotham I could have ever hoped to come across." He put the chair back on all four legs and leaned forward as though sharing a very important secret. "She has a mind that even I find horrifying at times. I can tell just by looking in her eyes what she plans to do, but then she _still_ manages to surprise me. Do you know what I call people like that?" He didnt wait for Batman to answer. "The _real_ humans." At Batman's obviously confused look, he elaborated. "In my little book, _real_ humans are disconnected. Real humans dont care about material things, or money, or any of that. Real humans know that it's a dog-eat-dog world, and she's on the top of the god damn food chain!

"Do you _get _it?" His voice reached that pitch of insanity that made Batman feel like his ears would bleed. "Dolly, like me, is one of the few people on the Earth that broke down the fourth wall that God put up, and said 'Fuck this reality show, I'm makin' my own!'! And she _does_ make it her own!" He threw his hands up and made a 180 gesture with his arms. "This whole _city_ is her and my reality show, and the rest of the little players who refuse to recognize God's fourth wall are under _our_ unbreakable contract! We _own_ them, just by striking _fear_ into them!" He broke off into a fit of laughter, complete with flunking his own head on the table.

Batman watched the Joker have his little fit, feeling a rising heat of anger in his gut. He growled, then reached forward and grabbed the Joker by his vest and dragged him up and partially across the table. "What the hell are you planning!?" he growled menacingly at the madman. The Joker just laughed back at him and didnt answer. Batman let out a short shout of rage and hauled him up and slammed him into the nearest wall. "Answer me!"

"I shouldnt _have_ to tell you!" the Joker laughed back. "I _already_ answered it! _You_ just dont _listen_!"

Batman pulled him off the wall and slammed him back into it, harder this time. "Give me a straight answer!" The Joker laughed harder and Batman drew him back for another slam.

_"I've already won_!" he finally laughed, now beginning to calm down. Batman froze mid-throw and stared at him. The Joker laughed for a moment more before licking his lips frantically and giggling up at Batman. "I've already won because I have what you dont!"

Batman, against his better judgement, let the Joker go. "...What do you mean?" he asked, his voice deathly grave. The Joker cracked his neck and smirked at Batman.

"I have...what you dont have," he continued, licking his lips again. "Something that will continue the tidal wave of terror that makes his city exciting to live in...and, and the general public..." He nodded and gestured at the two-way mirror behind Batman. "...Will know about it soon enough." He looked back at Batman, and the oddest look came into his eyes.

"I have a human legacy."

Batman froze, blinking almost dumbly. While he was in his stupor, the Joker cracked his neck again and walked over to sit back down at the table calmly. Batman finally shook his head a little and looked over at the Joker, and also returned to his seat.

"...That girl..."

"Dolly."

"Dolly," Batman corrected himself. "...She...is your 'legacy'...?" The Joker smiled and nodded, starting to giggle again. Batman clenched his fists. "...How? _How _is that girl your legacy?" The Joker shook his head, still giggling.

"I would stop calling Dolly 'that girl'," he said. "She's older than she looks, she's twenty. But she has all the sense of someone who's lived for a thousand years and more." He waved his bound hands. "Her doll's clothes? Dont let it fool you. What she consciously wears has a subconscious under-meaning. Think of her wearing doll's outfits as..." He shrugged. "...A cute little rabbit with rabies...or a piece of pretty, sweet candy that chokes a child to death, you know?" He started giggling. He eyed Batman again. "And for the longest time to come, it is her--that sweet, deadly 'girl'--that will be taking up my work once the day comes when you finally kill me."

Batman narrowed his eyes, his attention full-on. "...Kill you...?" The Joker leaned back in his chair again.

"Though I am feared as much as a god," he said, licking his lips, "I am not a god. I'm not going to live forever...but..." He grinned at his nemesis, licking his lips again. "...A legacy lives on for decades upon centuries upon millennium. When that day finally comes...when I'm dead...I will have someone to carry on." He snorted. "And what will _you_ have, eh? Who will be there to take on _your_ work done _your _way?" He scoffed, leaning back further in his chair. "Take my advise. Either find yourself a legacy of your own, or die and leave Gotham to _my_ legacy..." He started to giggle again. "Do you _see _now? Dolly. Is. Perfection!" He laughed harder.

Batman sat back in his chair, staring numbly at the Joker for how long, he didnt know. But after the Joker calmed himself again, Batman stood up and turned toward the door.

"Oh, and by the way..." Batman paused at the Joker's voice, but didnt turn around. "If you plan on getting anything out of Dolly, then I would strongly suggest treating her the same way you treat me." His voice actually grew slightly serious. "A word of warning...never underestimate her. Ever." He paused. "...And while you're questioning her, I would take a long...hard...look at her."

Batman didnt look back, but he could tell that the Joker actually wasnt grinning underneath his makeup.

* * *

When he walked into the second interrogation room holding Dolly, he finally saw what the Joker was talking about. She was sitting the exact same way the Joker had, and her eyes locked onto his in a manner similar to a bear trap. He mentally berated himself for ever thinking that the violet color was beautiful, and slowly made his way to the other side of the table and sat down. Her violet gaze remained unwavering to his, and he could see what he saw earlier--unadulterated hate. The same hate that burned whatever it touched, just like...

"Are you here to question me, or are you just going to keep staring at me all night?"

Batman snapped out of his stupor, and focused back on the situation at hand. "I am here to question you," he said. "I want to first off ask what your real name is."

Dolly blinked and looked at him as though he was stupid. "My name is Dolly," she said pointe blank. "Plain and simple. No other name, no last name, no nothing."

"...Alright," Batman replied. "Tell me why you're working with the Joker." Dolly leaned back in her chair and gave him a sinfully innocent smile.

"Because I want to," she said. After a few moments of saying nothing more, Batman continued.

"What did he offer you in return of your services?" He felt his skin actually crawl when she let out a short bark of laughter.

"...He didnt offer me _anything_!" Dolly replied when her laughter toned down. "All he said was that he wanted me to work for him, and I said yes. The room and food are just benefits." Batman stared at her.

"Surely he's offered you something..._anything_...?" Dolly shook her head.

"Nope," she said, her voice fluttering up to near girlishness. "I do what he says because I _want_ to."

"But _why_?" Batman pressed. "Why do you _want_ to follow someone like him? One of the real _true_ monsters in this world?!"

Dolly's girlish demeanor darkened so fast, Batman almost missed the change from one to the other. "True monsters..." She leaned forward, her eyes almost hidden by her bangs. "Let me tell you something about monsters, hm?" She reached up to her left eye and poked her fingertip into it, then took out what Batman saw to be a violet eye contact. She looked back up, and Batman saw that her left eye was paled out, but then she picked around the heart makeup and peeled off synthetic flesh, and he now saw that her left side of her face was scarred and her eye blind.

"True monsters," she said, "drove me out of my little comfort zone of getting good grades and letting people--literally sometimes--walk all over me. The true monsters are the ones _you_ protect."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "I will admit that there are some that dont exactly deserve protection," he said, "but I would never peg them _all_ off as monsters. Because not all of them are. Even you have to know that."

Dolly shook her head. "No," she said softly. "There's a monster in us all...but there are little pissant monsters, and then there are _real_ monsters." Her eyes glazed over as though she were remembering something she didnt want to remember. "...I've seen real monsters. I've lived with them..." She focused her eye still with sight on him. "I was _born_ to real monsters. And let me say this, Mister Dark Savior of Gotham...the Joker?" She shook her head. "Not a real monster. A monster? Yes. But not a real monster. No." She blinked her eyes slowly. "A real monster wouldnt have spared my life, or made me his near equal."

Batman made a thoughtful sound. "...How much do you actually know about the Joker?" he asked.

"Enough to know how he likes a job to be done, and to get it done right," Dolly replied. "I dont need to know anything else."

He thought for a moment. "Did he ever tell you where he got his scars?"

"No," Dolly said, shrugging. "I never asked. It's none of my business."

"And how much does he know about you?"

Dolly blinked again. "Everything," she replied. "Every last detail from where I was born down to when my period starts. I dont _need_ to know anything more about him other than what he goes by and what he needs done. That's it."

Batman sighed to himself. "...But why stay?" he finally said. Dolly looked to the side for a moment.

"Because the sole reason I am alive," she said softly, "rests on the principle that he spared my life." She looked back to him. "My life is a thread, and for every second that I live, he stands poised with a pair of scissors, and it is by his _whim_ that he doesnt snip my life out of existence. I owe my very self to him in every way, shape and form. He says jump, I dont even ask how high, I just jump. He says shoot, I grab the closest gun. He says he wants to get laid, and I am on my back faster than he can finish his sentence." She let a small smile grace her lips.

As Batman listened, he shook his head. "Do you even think he cares about you?"

"I know that he doesnt give a shit about me," she says. "I'm his most convenient weapon, and if I'm killed, I'm killed. He wont mourn my loss for a moment. I already know that."

"And what about you?" Batman demanded. "Do you care about him?" Dolly shook her head.

"No," she said. "I am indebted to him and will do anything he asks of me, but I dont care about him. If he happens to die, then I'll just keep living from the base he set for me. That's life. That's how it is, and that's how it'll be from now on." She folded her hands on the table. "I'm not stupid," she said. "Far from it. You might have thought when you walked in here that I'm just a clueless little girl with Stockholm Syndrome, but I'm not. I'm merely here to live. And that is it. And I will live however my boss tells me to live until either one of us dies."

Batman shook his head again. "...You stay with him out of devotion," he said. "...Because you say he spared your life. But there's a piece missing that neither of you have given me. Why did he save your life?" Dolly's violet eye seemed to darken along with her visage.

"...Because _you_ didnt." As she spoke, she reached up to the left side of her chest just at the top of her left breast and pulled off another slip of synthetic skin, revealing a large scar that looked as though it was made by a razor or something else sharp. She put her hands back on the table and said nothing more.

As he stared at the scar, something in the back of Batman's mind opened up a memory file of something that happened a year ago...and it clicked.

He slowly stood up and made his way back to where the Joker was being held. The Joker was sitting back in his chair with his legs propped up on the table and his hands resting on his stomach. He looked as though he had been waiting for Batman the whole time. "...You finally figured it out, I gather?" the Joker queried, looking sly indeed. Batman didnt sit down, but instead pressed his palms to the table to stare the Joker down.

"Who is she, Joker?" he demanded firmly. "Tell me right now!" The Joker put his legs down and bent forward to stare right back at him.

"Her name is Dolores Jesston," he replied. "Dolly for short, but she wont answer to anyone but that. And as you've probably guessed by now, she's the girl you didnt save a year ago." He snickered. "Irony is hilarious, isnt it?"

"Shut up," Batman hissed. "How is that her? Everyone saw you kill her!"

"A decoy," the Joker replied. "I found a prostitute that looked enough like her to take her place in that video."

"Why?"

The Joker sighed. "Because of what happened right before," he said. "Remember when I told you that madness was like gravity?" He didnt wait for Batman to respond. "Well, I wasnt the one who pushed" He smirked. "...She saw the news report, asking people if anyone knew who she was. And you know what?" He laughed. "Her own _parents _were interviewed and they denied ever even _seeing_ her!" He laughed harder. "Oh! Oh, you should have _seen _the fit she threw after she saw that! Screamed and throttled herself into unconsciousness!" He shook his head, still laughing. "But it was just one little thing she said," he licked his lips, "that really got my attention. Something I knew wasnt directed just at her parents, but to everyone on this planet." He leaned closer. "'They can all burn'." He broke off into laughter once more. "How--how amazing is that?" He continued. "Seeing those who were meant to save her turn their backs on her, and then she turned to _me_! Her own _abductor _and would-have-been _killer_!" He calmed himself and stared Batman in the eye.

"You did this, you know," he said, grinning manically. "You didnt save her. And before you get all preachy, I _did_ leave clues. I gave you a clue to her name, and I gave you a clue to her location. How you interpreted them is not my problem, but _yours_. And ergo..." He leaned back. "Her demiser became her savior, and her savior became the one she wants to meet demise." He shook his head. "Irony, I repeat, is hilarious."

Batman couldnt even bring himself to give the grinning madman a fierce right hook to the face, because he knew that he was _right_. The Joker was completely right.

Leaving the Joker to gloat in his obvious superiority of this battle of the war on Gotham, Batman turned and vanished from the room, and then from the police station altogether, not having felt this guilty since Rachael's death, only this seeming somehow worse.

* * *

_Wow. Doozy of a chapter, no? --faints--_

_Next up, the escape from the police station, and Dolly finally gets revenge on her parents._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

After Batman had left wordlessly, with an air of anger and distress, Commissioner Gordon saw, Joker and Dolly were put back in their holding cells, the handcuffs still on. Gordon himself kept his eye on them, but after two hours or so of them not so much as looking up from their own knees, he himself began to get bored, and seriously needed a cup of coffee. But before he could even ask someone to go and heat the pot, there was a call in about a huge riot not too far from the police station. Gordon would have just sent a few cops out to settle it, but they had already busted into a few shops and beat some people into the streets, so he had to go himself and leave just a few cops to guard the two psychopaths.

It was a half hour later, and the five guards in place were leaning against the wall with their respective coffees and looking at the two prisoners in the cells. The Joker was slumped forward, his arms supporting himself up on his knees, and he wasnt moving. Dolly had her legs together at the knees, and her arms were folded on them, her hair curtaining her face. But her head moved to the side as though to look at them every once and awhile. One of the cops noticed after a few minutes before walking up to the cell. Dolly turned her head to the side, then looked at the Joker, who still hadnt moved a bit.

"Is the freak asleep?" he said roughly, taking out his truncheon and made a move to tap at the bars. Dolly's head shot up and she held up her hands, her eyes wide and worrisome.

"Dont!" she pleaded just above a whisper, her voice filled with desperation. The cop paused. "Please...if you wake him up, he'll blame me!" The cop furrowed his brow and stepped back.

"What th' hell do you mean?" he demanded. Dolly looked worriedly back to the Joker, who still hadnt moved, then back to the cop.

"Please," she said, putting her hands together as though praying to him. "I dont want to be here! I'm only here because I had to do what he said! He told me that he'd kill my mom and dad if I didnt obey him! Please!" Tears filled her eyes as she stood up and walked to the wall of bars next to the door. "At...at least put me in another cell! He's gonna kill me now that I told you! Please!" She leaned her head against the bars and sobbed softly.

The cop looked back at his friends behind him, and they also walked up to the bars, drawing their guns. "Alright," he said. "We'll put you in another cell, but that's it." He pulled out the keys. "You're gonna have to talk to Commissioner Gordon and a lawyer if you want that story to fly." He put the key in the lock and turned it. Dolly smiled through her tears at him.

"Thank you so much," she said, putting her hands where they could see them and stepped forward, and let the cop take her by the arm and lead her to the cell next door. He opened up the door and led her inside, then turned to go when she suddenly looped her bound arms around his neck and pulled him inside with her, then threw him to the floor so she was sitting on his back with her legs pinning his arms to his side. The other cops drew their guns and pointed then at her, but she pulled the chain over the front of his neck and pulled back, choking him.

"Let him go! Let him go _now_!!" another cop shouted, aiming his gun at her. Dolly smirked and pulled harder, putting pressure on the hyoid bone. "Let him go or we'll fucking shoot!" When Dolly didnt let up, he tightened his finger on the trigger, but then the cop in the back next to the Joker's cell was tackled and his gun stolen. Before any of them had a real chance to react, the Joker shot and killed all of them, save for the cop that Dolly had in her 'care'.

Finally, after a few moments, the cop passed out from lack of oxygen and Dolly stood back up, then turned him over with her foot and dug in his pockets for the handcuff keys. She unlocked her cuffs, then walked over to the Joker and unlocked his. "...You're shoulder's bleeding again," she said off-handedly. The Joker looked at his shoulder and blinked.

"...Right..." He tossed the cuffs on a dead cop and headed for the exit, Dolly following and grabbing his and her knives en route.

* * *

It was Dolly who dug the bullet out of his shoulder--no painkillers, naturally. She cleaned the wound and stitched it up, then tossed his bloody and torn shirt and vest aside, deciding to salvage the jacket. "Have to make another," she muttered to herself. "...Second time this month..." The Joker ignored her droll and pulled on a regular button-up olive-colored shirt and cracked his neck.

"I expect new ones in two days," he said. Dolly was a good seamstress; she made all of her own outfits and skillfully made his shirts and vests when the formers were destroyed beyond salvaging. Upon hearing no affirmative, he looked over to Dolly, who was holding onto his clothes to be thrown away and staring into space. He knew that look. She had that look whenever she was remembering something she'd rather not. It was getting less frequent now, but it still happened. He made a soft sound of annoyance. "...What is it now?"

Dolly blinked, then looked at him, her violet eye somewhat dull. "...My parents," she said softly. Her fingers clenched into the bloody cloth in her hands. "...I dont want them to be there anymore..."

The Joker knew what she spoke of. 'There' referred to the space in her mind dedicated to every memory of pain and suffering she ever endured. She had referred to 'there' only once before, when she had woken up from a nightmare and was fervently making effigy dolls of her parents that she would later burn after stabbing over and over again. He snorted and flexed his arm to make sure it still worked despite the torn muscle. "Then kill them," he replied nonchalantly. He stood up and walked out of the med room.

Dolly stood there in silence for awhile after he left, mulling over his words. She had spent this past year merely choosing to ignore their existence as they had hers; but it was futile. As long as they existed physically, they existed mentally. She would have no peace until something was ultimately done.

A touch of an idea brushed her mind. She thought more on it. Added a few more details. Then headed for her 'workroom' to complete the idea.

* * *

Della Jesston walked into her apartment with a sigh, and put her purse on the table and her coat on the rack. She had gone for another grocery run, and spent her entire paycheck, no less. But Carl wanted roast beef tonight, and roast beef he was going to get. "Carl, it'll be ready in an hour," she said, walking past the living room toward the kitchen.

"Oh...I dont think it'll take _that_ long..."

Della jumped with a short scream when she heard a voice not her husbands, and whipped around to see that instead of her husband in his designated chair, a girl wearing a black lacy babydoll dress with her blonde hair up in pigtails. Her legs were crossed and her fingers were laced together, and she was staring at Della with the most intense look. At her feet was her unconscious husband.

Della backed up until her back hit the wall. "Oh...oh my G...Carl! What did you do to Carl!?" The girl absently looked down at the man at her feet.

"...Carl..." she said, then shrugged. She brought a gun from behind her back and stroked the body of it. "Carl, Carl, Carl...that's all it's ever about, isnt it, Della?" She looked back up at Della, who was staring at the gun with fearful tears in her eyes. The girl snapped her fingers to bring her back to attention. "Hey, I asked you a question!" Della made a choking noise and looked shakily back at the girl. "...Is it always about Carl?"

Della trembled as she looked from the girl to the gun said girl was holding. "I...I dont know what you m-mean!" she stuttered. "Who are you!? Why are you doing this to us!?" She flinched and broke off when the girl slammed her fist on the table next to the chair.

"It's always about _you _isnt it!?" she shouted, glaring harder at Della. "It was _always _about you, wasnt it!? It was _never_ about Dolores, was it!?" At the name 'Dolores', Della visibly blanched.

"How..." Della murmured, trembling harder. "...How do you...?" She broke off with a sob when the girl pointed her gun at her to silence her.

"...You denied her existence," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "...Because of you, Dolores Jesston is dead. You denied the sweet fruit of your very womb...and for what?" She kicked at the unconscious form in front of her. "This? This piece of shit floating in Gotham's toilet? This, that killed your unborn son? This, that did every vile act of torture to your daughter while you did _nothing_?!" She stood up and Della shrank back.

"How do you know this!?" Della shouted back. "Who the hell are you!?"

The girl gripped her gun tighter and glared with black venom at Della. "...I..." she said softy, "...am the Harlequin Princess. The Ace of Hearts. The Jester Doll..." She put the gun back in the holster attached to her thigh. "...I go by the common name of Dolly...Mother." She spat out the last word as though it were disgusting on her tongue.

Della stared at Dolly's face, and as familiar features came to light, she paled even more. Her knees shook and she slid down the wall, her eyes filling with tears. "N...no..." she stammered. "...No! My...my daughter...she's dead..._she's dead_!! I _saw_ her die!"

"You're _right_!" Dolly darted forward and slammed her fist into the wall. "I _did _die! And _you two killed me!!" _She backed up, spreading her arms. "Dolores Jesston died. And she was reborn...into _me_..." She took a step back. "...I'm Dolly now. And you are not my mother. And he..." She kicked behind her at Carl Jesston without looking. "...Is not my father. You both are dead to me. Figuratively...and soon to be literally."

Della sobbed harder. "D...Dolly...!" she stuttered. "...I'm...I'm so sorry! Please! I'm sorry!"

"Oh stop it," Dolly huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "...The Boss is right...people really do show their true colors at their inevitable deaths..." She turned back to the table next to the chair and picked something up. "...But I wont be the one to decide the deaths..." She turned back to Della. "..._You_ will be." She walked back over to Della and held out the item to her, revealing it to be a controller of sorts. "This is a detonator to a small but deadly bomb," she said, pointing to what looked like a collar around her neck. "Both me and Carl has this bomb on. The button on the right detonates mine, and the button on the left detonates him.

"You have two choices. You can press the right button and save the man who turned you into his slave. He'll live and you wont have me around to do any of this again; to finish what you both started since the day I was born. Or you can press the left button and kill the him, and go on living your life lonely and always having my shadow following you until it drives you to Arkham." She bent down and grabbed Della's hand and put the detonator into it. "Choose now."

Della stared in almost horror at the detonator in her hand, her thumb passing back and forth between the two buttons as the two options. Her hand shook as Dolly stepped away and leaned against the wall opposite her, her arms crossed as she waited patiently. Della let out a sob and looked between the two of them, and finally, her thumb slammed down on the right button.

Instead of Dolly's collar exploding, Carl's collar exploded, and his head and body were separated and blood splattered everywhere. Della felt his blood splash her face stared in horror at the mess of her now deceased husband. "No..._no!_" she screamed, dropping the controller and pulling at her hair. "_I pressed the right button! I pressed the right button!!"_

"Just like I thought you would." Dolly pushed up off of the wall and stepped forward up to Della. "I knew that you were too weak-minded to kill the man who took life from you...and for the sake of not being alone..." She shook her head and pulled the gun from her holster. "...Pity." She dropped the gun in front of Della and headed for the door. "If you dont want to be alone _that_ badly, then use that bullet for a more productive use."

Della let out a horrified shriek as Dolly walked out the door and down the hallway. She pressed the elevator button and stepped inside once it opened. As the doors closed, she grinned as she heard a gunshot go off from apartment 101.

* * *

_Yeah, I kinda channeled some Saw into this one...I love those movies..._

_The next chapter, the Joker and Dolly collaborate on the defeat of Batman._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The Joker looked up from reading the Gotham Times--obituary section, followed by the Dear Abby columns to think of his own answers to their bitching--when Dolly walked back into warehouse. She headed into another room quietly, and the Joker--curiosity piqued--put his paper down and followed her. He found her sitting down at the table where he liked to play cards, staring off into space. Again, he knew that look. He pulled up a chair and sat across from her and waited for her to say or do something.

After about five minutes of silence, he blinked and took it upon himself to break the silence. "Didja kill them?" Dolly shifted her gaze from nothing to him, then nodded.

"I did," she replied. The Joker arched a brow.

"How?" Dolly told him. "...And you're not ecstatic?" Dolly went back to staring into space. The Joker sighed. "What? Was killing them not enough for you?"

"No," Dolly replied without a beat. She looked back at him, her violet eye flaring. "It's _not_ enough. There's _still _another left."

"...Another?" The Joker noticed that her left eye twitched. "...Ahh..." He smirked. "...The Batman." He leaned back in his chair. "Funny you should mention that." He held up a small remote. "Because I have a little thought that I would simply love to act upon, and you are the main factor."

Dolly arched her brow. "Pray tell," she replied. The Joker grinned wider.

"I paid the real Lord Elloway another 'visit'," he said, rolling the remote between his hands. "And it seems that he is looking for a husband for his daughter..." He began to snicker. "...A rich man...the richest in Gotham..." He looked pointedly at Dolly, grinning.

"...Havent we already done that?" Dolly said. "The 'richest in Gotham' would recognize me again." The Joker laughed.

"Where's that acting talent I've seen you use so often?" He shook his head. "Simple. You die your hair, change your voice, put in some contacts, and put that makeup artistry to some good use. The resemblance between you and Madeline is already similar, so use that to your full advantage." He held up the remote. "Lord Elloway will cooperate with us. I made _perfectly_ sure of that."

* * *

Bruce could hardly believe that he was to be meeting the _real _Lord Erick Elloway, and so soon after they had been abducted. It was a week after Halloween, and Lord Elloway had insisted on re-meeting with Bruce, wanting to personally meet him. Bruce had Commissioner Gordon check things out, and Gordon personally vouched Erick and Madeline's authenticity.

And now, today he was to meet with them at his newly-rebuilt Wayne Manor. It was the early afternoon, and he was to have a light lunch with them, which was to be followed by what Bruce figured to be business. He checked the grandfather clock in the front foyer, and saw that it was ten to one; ten minutes until their arrival...

The doorbell rang at that moment, and Bruce blinked. They were early. Alfred came about two seconds later and made a beeline for the door while Bruce followed at a slower pace. Alfred opened the door and stepped aside to let Lord Elloway and Madeline through.

The real Lord Elloway--quite different than that the Joker impersonated--was a man in about his fifties. He had greying brown hair slicked back, and a salt-and-pepper goatee over his chin. His eyes were a sober brown and his face an ashy sort of pale. However, his overall air was that of a kind man, and Bruce liked him right away. He reached his hand out. "Lord Elloway," he said. The Lord gave him a small smile and took it.

"Mister Wayne," he replied, his voice sounding older than he looked. They shook hands for a moment before Lord Elloway took his hand away and looked behind him. "Come along, Madeline." He stepped aside and Bruce held himself straighter for the real Miss Madeline's appearance.

A girl stepped forth wearing an expensive-looking white button-down dress that came to her knees that had a black belt at the high waist. She was wearing black Mary Jane's and black hand gloves and a black wide-brimmed hat with a white orchid on it. A string of pearls hung around her neck. She raised her head and Bruce saw that she had golden-brown eyes, a doll-polished pale face, and brown hair that she tied back in a low bun with some strands hanging over her ears. When their eyes met, she looked aside and the apples of her cheeks pinkened in modesty.

"Come Madeline, introduce yourself," Lord Elloway said, stepping aside yet another step. Madeline raised her head and held out her hand. Bruce took it and kissed it, taking a moment to notice the hint of a floral perfume.

"...Pleasure to meet you, Mister Wayne," she said, her voice soft and airy, as though speaking when she would rather not. Bruce smiled and let her hand go.

"The Pleasure is all mine," he said. He took a step back. "Allow me to lead you to the dining room?"

Lunch was a quiet event with light conversation between Bruce and Lord Elloway, with Madeline saying little to nothing at all. She seemed perfectly content with her food and listening to the conversation. Bruce took moment to look at her as she ate, and noticed how introverted she was. It occurred to him that she was new to Gotham--and was abducted earlier in her visit, no less--and would have nothing to do once the business discussions began. He turned to ask Lord Elloway to ask if there was any entertainment Madeline had when the Lord's cellphone rang.

"My deepest apologies, Mister Wayne," he apologized, standing up. "I have it set so only urgent calls go through...pardon..." He stepped away to have his conversation, leaving Bruce and Madeline alone.

Bruce looked to Madeline, who shifted slightly. "...Is the food to your liking?" Madeline looked up and blushed slightly.

"It is," she replied. "Thank you...you're a most gracious host." She set her fork down and put her hands in her lap. Bruce gave her a smile.

"Why dont you tell me something about yourself then?" he inquired, trying to coax her out of her little shell.

About an hour later, Madeline truly did seem to come from under her shell, especially when he pressed into her interest in art. She had been very animated when she spoke of all the museums and theatres she had visited, and expressed her love of costume-making and artistry. Bruce had hung onto her every word, happy to his soul that she wasnt just another spoiled rich girl and actually had a creative and inquisitive mind. She was extremely intelligent as well

After that hour passed, she suddenly stopped talking and blushed. "I'm so sorry!" she said. "I've just droned on and wasted your time, forgive me..." Bruce held up a hand.

"Oh, no, not at all!" he intervened. "I find your stories interesting, really. I too enjoy the museums and theatres...art, that is..." Madeline lowered her shield slightly and her blush receded.

"You do, Mister Wayne?" she asked. "...Forgive me, but I thought you to be all business..." Bruce laughed.

"I can assure you, I'm not," he replied. "I _did_ throw a Halloween party..." He cut off when he saw her eyes lower. "...I'm sorry, that was stupid of me to bring up..."

"No...no, it's alright," Madeline said, looking back up. "I'm fine, really." She gave him a light smile.

Alfred chose that time to walk up with news. "Master Bruce," he addressed hurriedly. "Lord Elloway left with a message that his company was in some financial trouble and expressed his deepest apologies of having left so soon..." He turned to Madeline. "...He also asked that I tell you to not to worry, and that he left you the key to the hotel room." He held out a card key. He looked to Bruce again and left quietly.

"...Miss Madeline..."

"No, this happens all the time," Madeline interrupted, putting the card in her purse. "Father has a lot of spies in his company that try to embezzle money...he has to leave on extremely short notice a lot, and I sometimes dont come with him because of that short notice." She looked to the side as though lost in a little puddle of saddening memories of being left behind. Bruce frowned. That was almost too sad, her being left alone in different countries all the time.

"...Why dont you stay for the night?" he found himself saying. Madeline looked back to him, her eyes holding a surprised light.

"Oh, I couldnt impose..." she began. Bruce stood up.

"It's not imposing if you're invited," he said, smiling at her. He held his hand out. "Besides...there's a production of "A Streetcar Named Desire" opening tonight, if you're interested." Madeline blinked for a moment, then took his hand.

"...The invitation to stay is simply too much," she said, a light smile coming to her lips, "...but a play sounds wonderful."

* * *

The Joker flipped through the channels of the large television as he drank the fifty-dollar drinks from the minibar in the most fabulous hotel in Gotham. It was nearly eleven, and 'Miss Madeline' had yet to come back from her 'date' with Bruce Wayne. Not that he cared; he was contenting himself with the luxury and the booze that Lord Elloway was paying for.

At eleven-o-two, the card-locked opened and 'Madeline' walked through the door and shut it behind her. She looked over to see Joker reclining on the expensive white couch with his legs propped up on the equally expensive table in front of him, watching random channels. He didnt look up as he changed it to the Discovery Channel where there was a documentary about sharks. "How was the date, Dolls?" he asked absently.

Dolly ran a hand through her dyed hair and flung the purse on the couch next to him. "Abysmal," she replied. "Worst production of "A Streetcar Named Desire" I've ever seen. Hell, even Bruce thought so." She flopped down on the couch and sighed. The Joker smirked.

"Oh, it's 'Bruce' now is it?" he asked in a teasing manner. Dolly snorted.

"If we want this great and almighty plan of yours to work, it is," she said. She grabbed the remote from him. "I need to get that blood clot to the theatrical brain out of my head..." She turned to a channel where a "Friday the 13th" movie was playing. "There we go."

* * *

_A little dry, yes..._

_For the record, I also own "Blood clot to the theatrical brain" upon seeing "The Wizard of Oz" at school. I nearly vomited. Hand to God. And I love Friday the 13th.  
_

_Next chapter includes deeper plan development and a lemon. Rejoice, you pervs._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

It was the next day, and Bruce insisted on taking 'Madeline' out to dinner. It was a smaller place, but still classy. He had the limo pick her up at the hotel, where she was waiting in the lobby for him. He went in to bring her out, and found her sitting by herself patiently, but she looked up when she saw him and gave him a shy smile. Bruce saw that she was rather beautiful. Her brown hair was wavy and hanging down and loose around her shoulders. She was wearing a simple dark chocolate-colored cocktail dress that came three inches above the knee with matching ankle-strap stilettos. She had a gold bracelet around her left wrist and gold studs in her ears. Her honey-brown eyes lit up brightly when he held his hand out for her.

"You look lovely," he said, smiling. Madeline smiled and blushed slightly.

"Thank you," she said softly. "...You do too." She blushed a little deeper at the effeminate remark, but Bruce offered her his arm and led her to the limo.

The ride to the restaurant was on the whole uneventful. Madeline mostly looked out the window with her hands in her lap and her fingers every so often twitching. Bruce pegged it off as nervousness and smiled at her shyness. This was the reason he had picked the smaller restaurant, because he knew that it would be quieter with less people in it.

Finally, they arrived and Bruce helped Madeline out of the car and led her up to the doors. She was quiet as he gave his name and reservation information and they were both sat at a table in a dimmed corner. Madeline looked around, taking in the dim lighting that brought the polished wood and terra cotta flooring to an earthy luminance. She blended in nicely with the atmosphere, Bruce noticed. Soft Italian music played in the background, adding on to the pleasant, calming atmosphere.

"I take it you like it?" Bruce asked the Lady as she looked around. Madeline nodded.

"...It's lovely," she finally said after looking back at him. "And quiet...I like that. Thank you for bringing me here." Bruce gave her a smile as the waiter came up and asked for drinks. Bruce ordered the wine for the both of them, but Madeline interjected.

"I...dont drink," she said gently. "I would be happy with any kind of fruit juice, if you have any..." The waiter smiled at her shyness and said that he had come cranberry, and left it at that.

"Twenty-two and you dont drink?" Bruce asked, humored. Madeline shook her head.

"It's...a personal thing," she replied, and left it at that. As did Bruce.

"Anything you would like to eat? They serve mostly Italian here." He watched as Madeline picked up her menu.

"Is there anything that doesnt have a lot of cheeses?" she asked, scanning down. "I'm lactose intolerant." Bruce scanned over his menu.

"...The minestrone soup is filling, and doesnt have any dairy," he replied. Madeline smiled.

"Good choice, thank you, Mister Wayne," she said, folding her menu and putting her hands in her lap. A small silence ran between the two for a few moments before Madeline let out a small sigh. Bruce noticed.

"...Is there anything wrong?" he asked. Madeline blushed a little deeper.

"There is," she said, bringing her hands up to fold them over the table. "...Father...hasnt been entirely honest with you in his endeavors...or his intentions as to coming here." Bruce arched a brow.

"Oh?" He paused. "...What do you mean?" Madeline looked him in the eye before shifting her gaze away.

"Father didnt come here for the sole intention of business," she replied. "He also came here with the intention of...the heart..." She paused. "...He wants me to be married."

"...Ah," Bruce said, getting it. He shifted slightly. "...Married to...?"

"Yes, you," Madeline replied, then bit her lip. "...And I wanted to let you know...it's wrong of him to trick you like this...into spending time with me..." Her voice grew soft, and Bruce spoke up.

"Dont get me wrong," he said. "I find you a very...nice...pretty, intelligent girl. I really do. But...it's not...marriage I'm looking for." Madeline nodded.

"I've heard," she replied. "Have to keep up the 'billionaire playboy' image, dont we?" Bruce felt his face warm ever-so-slightly.

"...It's an image and image only," he said. "...There was...once...someone I loved dearly. But she's gone. I dont think I'll ever get over her. And I mean absolutely _no_ offense to you." Madeline raised her head and shook it.

"No, I completely understand," she said, looking at him. "...I know how that is. When I was younger...I fell in love with a boy that did chores for my family. And he loved me, and not for my wealth. He would leave me a flower on my bedroom doorstep every day, and tell me that as soon as he had enough money, he would buy a house and marry me." Her gentle nostalgic smile vanished. "...Father didnt approve. He said that I deserved better..." She brought her folded hands to her chin. "...He sent me away to boarding school, and on my second year, my knight died. I still dont know how...but he loved me...and I loved him." She shook her head. "Then I made the stupid mistake of intoxicating myself to the point where I had meaningless sex with some boy from a local pub...I vowed never to drink again...or love another..."

Bruce felt his heart clench for the girl in front of him, who he could tell was near tears. He pulled his kerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her, and she took it and dabbed at her eyes.

"I'm...I'm so sorry," she apologized. "...It's of no concern to you..." She handed Bruce back his kerchief just as the waiter came back with their drinks. After they had thanked him and he left, Bruce gave her a gentle smile.

"It's alright," he said. "I understand. It's obvious that neither of us are here looking for love...so..." He raised his glass. "Here's to friendship, at least..." Madeline smiled back the best she could and raised hers likewise.

"To friendship," she said. She sipped her cranberry juice. "...To avoid another heartbreak, at least," she added. "...Let's just humor Father for the time being?"

Bruce nodded and summoned the waiter over to take their food orders, though as he looked at Madeline smile with child-like shyness at the man, he couldnt help but feel something akin to companionship with the young Lady.

* * *

Just as the Joker had hoped for, Bruce Wayne was quite taken with the presumed Lady Elloway. For the next week, the billionaire had taken 'Madeline' to every high-class joint in Gotham, from museums to restaurants. They had even made the tabloids under the title "Could She Be the One?"--the Joker had laughed his ass off when he saw that one. Each night--often late--Dolly would come back and the tightly-held masquerade of 'Madeline' would drop off as though it were a tangible mask. She would give a full report, then grab the remote with the serious need to dull down the sophistication she had been subjected to the whole day prior.

At the end of each day for that whole week, the Joker had listened to her report, looking for a sign--any sign--of possible intimacy between Bruce Wayne and who he thought to be Madeline, but the closest that came to it was a slight hold of the hands while walking and him leading her through doors and crowds by the small of her back. Other than that, nada. And this made him bite his thumbnail as he stared into space thinking. If he was to successfully capture Bruce Wayne for hostage, then the billionaire's defenses had to be lowered completely.

After day number eight had come and gone, and Dolly herself had gone off to sleep--in the warehouse this time because she said the city noise outside the hotel was keeping her awake--the Joker finally had the epiphany. He made a phone call, then left a note on Dolly's bedside table telling her to call the day off for Bruce.

Dolly came in about an hour later, the note in hand and a questioning look on her face. The Joker didnt seem to notice. "...Why did I call off for the day?" she asked. The Joker smirked and tossed the newest tabloid--entitled "Future Mrs. Wayne?"--on the table in front of him.

"_This_ is why," he replied, grinning. "It's not just the pretty sight the paparazzi are capturing, it's the chemistry between Bruce Wayne and Madeline." He leaned back in his chair. "Bruce is lowering his defenses, I can see it. He's letting you in. Now all you have to do is tear down that wall and snatch his heart right out of his ribcage." He paused at the pretty mental picture, then continued. "Get him into bed, and it'll be over like _that_." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Dolly scoffed and plopped down in a chair across from him. "Not likely," she replied. "His 'one true love' is dead, and he wont go past touching my back or holding my hand. He's rock solid about that girl he loved." The Joker put on a faux-thoughtful face.

"That _is_ a dilemma," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny vial of clear liquid with a hint of pink coloring. Dolly arched a brow.

"What's that?" she asked. The Joker held the vial between his thumb and forefinger and sifted it side-to-side.

"A very slow-acting aphrodisiac," he replied. "It takes about four hours for the full effects to kick in, but after four hours is up, Bruce Wayne will most likely mount the closest person he can find." He looked pointedly at Dolly. "And _you_ have to be that person."

Dolly smiled as she got the plan. "Great," she said. "Just one problem." She leaned back in her own chair. "'Madeline' told Bruce she had slept with one other guy earlier on. And _I_ have never slept with _anyone_." She leaned forward. "We," she gestured between them, "have a problem there."

The Joker made a soft sound. That _did_ pose a tiny little problem, that it did. He put the vial into a small cushioned box and stood up. "Then let's _fix_ that problem," he replied, walking toward her bedroom. "If it's a non-virgin Brucey will be expecting, a non-virgin Brucey shall receive."

Dolly got what the Joker was saying and sighed. Keeping up this stupid 'Madeline' charade was so fucking bothersome, she thought. She followed the Joker into her room and shut the door behind her, then crossed her arms over her body to grip her shirt and pulled it off, showing no modesty in front of her boss. She knew that he would make use of her body for his own end eventually, and she really didnt care anyway.

As she undressed, the Joker found himself watching her with amusement at her lack of modesty--or giving a damn for that matter. He was undressing himself, thinking about the last time he had gotten laid. Awhile, that was for damn sure. A _long_ damn while. He was simply too busy to partake in pleasures of the flesh--and quite frankly, he really didnt care that much for sex. It was at the very bottom of his priority list, between saving a drowning puppy and putting out a burning church. But he had nothing to do today and 'Madeline' had called in sick or whatever the hell Dolly had thought up, so it was either sex or burn a church and put it out. Sex was less of a hassle.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Dolly stood at the foot of her bed, buck naked and standing there with a 'what now' kind of expression on her face. The Joker eyed her over. This was the Dolly that was kept away from the world...the scarred Dolly. He could see knife scars, burn scars, scrape scars...scars scars scars...his tongue almost ached to lick them, especially that long scar across her stomach from the near-disembowelment...He reached his hands out and pushed her onto her back, then stroked his fingers over the hill and valley flesh, feeling his fingertips tingle from touching them. Scars, to him, were more attractive than breasts in contrast to other men. And she had so...many...to just _touch_...

His hazed mind from looking at the goldmine of abrasions of the flesh sent the next however-long into short flashes of consciousness. He barely remembered stroking his fingertips over every scar they could find as he crawled between her--also scarred--legs. He hardly registered the shudders she let out when he dipped a fingernail into the scar valleys to touch deeper. He didnt even really remember when he had entered her body, but he did remember a jolt of searing pleasurable pain when ten sharp points tore into his back.

That snapped him into reality a bit more. His body was on fire...and he loved fire...he loved the sensation of things burning...he could feel bodies moving and the fire rising and burning hotter. The pain in his back deepened and dragged down.

He could feel arms wrapping around him and legs pressing into his hips; fingernails making new scars, no doubt.

In and out of full awareness continued; he felt a hand tangle in his hair and pull his head down and he felt his lips press to Dolly's. But there was nothing tender or even passionate about this kiss. It was cold and rough and dominating. Tongues lashed out at each other sharply as hands pressed against the Joker's chest.

In another bubble of awareness, the Joker found himself looking up at Dolly, who had him pinned down by the shoulders with her thumbnails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood. His own fingers found their way to her waist, his fingers stroking along the ends of the scar on her stomach. He hissed through his teeth when she dug her fingernails deeper into his shoulders, and clenched around him hard.

And then it was over.

For how long, he didnt know. It might have been seconds or an hour. He put a hand to his head--which was starting to throb, then looked over to Dolly. And he had to smile.

Apparently, the bedding had been shifted off the bed during the tryst, and in the little shift of awareness, Dolly had bend over to pick up the blanket and wrap it around herself, her back to him, leaving him to find his own source of warmth in the cold warehouse. There had been no lingering sense of connection whatsoever. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

The Joker got up and picked up his clothes to redress. "You are an enigma, Dolls," he muttered to himself with a grin. "...An interesting enigma..." He walked out of her room and shut the door behind him, his fingertips still tingling from touching her scars.

* * *

_Yeah, more of a lime...--hangs head in shame-- Usually my pr0n is better than that..._

_The next chapter, Dolly puts the plan into action, then makes a U-turn when she discovers a little secret of Bruce Wayne's._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Dolly had insisted on waiting a couple days before finally taking along the vial of liquid lust with her. That morning, Bruce had called and asked if she would like to accompany him to the finest five-star place in the entire city. It was big, it was public, and the paparazzi would have a field day if they managed to get in. Dolly knew this, the Joker knew this, and Bruce knew this, and the billionaire didnt care. So when he showed up in quite likely a multi-thousand dollar suit, Dolly had a feeling that Bruce was awakening some feelings for 'Madeline'.

She was wearing an expensive dress from Chanel, a dark red form-fitting spaghetti strap with a top-heart bodice. The whole dress came down to her ankles, where it flared gently while she walked. She was also wearing matching stilettos and simple gold jewelry. Her hair was pulled back with a red and gold butterfly clip. Her lips were painted a dark red and her eyes were outlined with gentle reddish-brown. When Bruce saw her, a gentle heat settled in his stomach.

"Madeline, you look..." He searched for a proper word. "...Gorgeous." Madeline smiled.

"Do I really?" she asked. "Not too much?" Bruce shook his head and took her hand.

"Not at all," he replied. "You look perfect." He led her to the limo and opened the door for her. As the usual, the ride to their destination was a quiet affair. But this time, Madeline kept looking at him, smiling, then looking back out the window. Bruce always smiled back at her fondly, enamored, really, at her innocent coyness. The ride didnt take long at all, as the destination was in the general district as her hotel. He helped her out of the limo and proudly escorted her into the restaurant--which he owned anyway.

As he expected, there were curious stares, pointing, and whispers, but Madeline just held onto his arm and kept close, but not too close as to suggest a much deeper relationship. They were seated and their drink orders were taken, and then they were left--relatively--alone.

"I'm...sorry about all of the publicity," Bruce apologized, glancing around at the staring people. Madeline smiled and shook her head.

"It's alright," she replied. "I'm kind of used to it, what with all of the gala events I attended with Father and his company..." She blushed. "At least I'm here with someone instead of fending for myself against half-drunk boys..." The charm in her smile made somewhere in Bruce's stomach twitch pleasantly. And he could have none of that.

"...How has your father taken the news?" he asked. Madeline looked to the side.

"...I'm still humoring him," she replied softly. "I _will_ tell him that we are just friends, in a manner of speaking...but for now, he is just happy that I'm with someone and not tending to myself, alone in some hotel room. He feels guilty enough that I wasnt there for Frederic's death as it is..."

"I understand!" Bruce cut in before people stared even more at them. "I'm sorry for bringing it up, really." Madeline perked up, ever so slightly.

"No apology needed, Mister Wayne," she assured, giving him a brave smile. Bruce smiled back.

"...Madeline...call me Bruce..."

There was a warm comfortable silence between the two as the waiter came back with their drinks and left promptly. Bruce and Madeline took their glasses with a smile between them, but before either could drink, Bruce had looked up to see two men about five tables away pointing to Madeline and making rather obscene and unflattering gestures, and it didnt take a genius to figure out exactly what their topic of discussion was. He frowned and put his glass down.

"Excuse me, Madeline," he said, pushing his seat back. "...I need to have a word with management." Madeline nodded and Bruce got up to make it so the obscenity would be put to an end.

After he left, Madeline noticed that all eyes had left the table and were following Bruce Wayne, wondering what was going on to make him leave the lady of the evening. Madeline quickly reached into her bodice and pulled out a small vial of liquid, uncapped it with nimble fingers, and emptied it into Bruce's wineglass before putting her hand with the vial under the tablecloth and letting it drop. Nobody else in the entire restaurant had seen a thing.

Bruce returned mere moments later and sat down. A moment after that, two security men had gone to the table of the ill-mannered men and were escorting them out of the building. "Sorry about that," he said. "Now..." He picked up his wineglass and took a sip, and Madeline followed suit just as the waiter returned with their meal orders.

After three hours in the restaurant talking and eating and simply enjoying his time with Madeline, Bruce asked if Madeline was ready to leave. She concurred, and the two walked out of the building and toward the limo. As they walked, Bruce had a slight feeling...an odd one. His entire body seemed to be set aflame as Madeline clutched onto his arm; her perfume, which was normally subtle and pleasant, was arousingly overwhelming. However, he shook it off as a buzz from the wine, and let her into the limousine before getting in beside her.

As the limo drove out, Madeline's hands clenched a little and her posture became slightly introverted. "...Bruce...?" Bruce looked up at the address, and saw that Madeline looked somewhat distraught. Concerned, he reached over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his heart clenching to see her in such a state after a nice evening. Madeline looked back at him with nervous eyes.

"...If it isnt too much trouble," she said slowly, her hands clenching again. "...May I please reside in your home? Just for tonight? I...I'm frightened to go back to the hotel..." Bruce relocated his hand to hold her clenched ones.

"Madeline, what's scaring you?" he demanded, concerned. Madeline bit her lip.

"More than once," she replied, "I've seen suspicious-looking men loitering around my hallway...and always looking at me...I'm afraid that they'll hurt me..." She clenched her hands under his. "Please, if it isnt too much trouble...?"

"No, not any trouble at _all_!" Bruce assured. "I'll send a message to the hotel to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, and you're more than welcome to stay with me tonight. Trust me; you're safe in my home."

Madeline gave him a watery smile and held his hand in both her own. "Thank you so much, Bruce," she said softly, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Bruce felt something in the bit of his stomach clench in almost pleasure from her hands touching his, but he fought to push it to the back of his mind as the ride to Wayne Manor drove on without another word.

* * *

Alfred seemed surprised to see Madeline with Bruce when they walked through the door, but any other thoughts he might have been thinking were quelled when Bruce explained the situation, and he saw how nervous and almost frightened the girl looked. Bruce took it upon himself to show Madeline where she could stay.

"My room is right down the hall," Bruce told her as he let her get settled. "Please, dont hesitate to get me or Alfred if you need anything." Madeline smiled and turned to him.

"I cant tell you how grateful I am," she said. "Thank you...so much." Without hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Bruce felt a shudder run through him; it was most definitely arousal now, he could tell. He took a step back and tried his damned hardest not to look flustered.

"Not...at all," he said. He backed out to the door. "Goodnight, Madeline..." He shut the door behind him, then leaned against the wall with a hand to his head. He could actually feel a sweat on his forehead, and the gentle throb in his groin was most definitely _not_ a good sign. Why was he feeling like this!? It was already established that he and Madeline were merely friends, and nothing more...

...But...was she...?

Mentally cursing himself, Bruce strode for his own room, trying hard not to think of the vision of companionship just down the hall.

* * *

It was half an hour later, and Bruce was on the verge of having a serious meltdown. He felt incredibly hot and freezing cold at the same time, and he had made a beeline to and from the door--how many times, he knew not; he lost count--debating whether or not to barge into Madeline's room and ravish her...then he would groan and clutch at his hair, and mentally beat himself for _thinking_ such...things!

He had shed his shirt long ago from the heat, and now flung himself to his bed, his breathing shuddery and hitched and shaking from the outer cold that clashed with the inner heat. God fucking damn it to motherfucking _Hell_! This was killing him! _Killing_ him...! He debated getting up to call Alfred for a doctor, but he couldnt bring himself to get up out of the bed. From the back of his mind and the pit of his groin, a part of him longed for the wavy brunette locks and the honey-colored eyes, and that sweet, sweet scent of hers...

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his little fantasy. He shot up and looked toward the door, expecting to see Alfred, but froze with burning heat when instead, he saw Madeline walk in and shut the door behind her. She was wearing a forest green silk robe that she was holding shut, and her hair was still up in that butterfly clip. She surveyed him and stepped forward.

"...I heard a sound..." she said softly, the hold on the front of her robe slackening. Bruce could only stare at the front of the robe where it folded over, feeling even more hot and cold than ever. "...I just really hate to think that those men followed me here..."

Bruce swallowed as she came closer, and felt a bead of sweat run down his face. "...I...they wouldnt...come here..." He could barely form a sentence...damn it...He barely registered her come closer to him until her hand was over his forehead.

"Do you have a fever, Bruce?" she asked softly. Her cool, sweet-smelling hand trailed down to his cheek and cupped it, a crease of concern on her forehead. "...You're awfully hot..."

_Oh God, dont say things like that..._

Her fingers gently stroked his cheek. "You're feverish, Bruce," she said. "You should really lie down in bed..."

_PLEASE dont say things like that...!_

"Here, let me help you..."

_...Oh yes...please..._

Before he could register what he was doing, Bruce put his hands around Madeline's waist and pulled her to him, desperate for bodily closeness. He shuddered and almost groaned when he felt her small frame against his muscular one...how long had it really been since he had a woman this close...? Too long...far too long...

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his rational and logical side was screaming bloody murder at him to get a grip and _think_ about what he was doing; to pull away and send for a doctor because he was _quite _obviously not well and really needed one before things got out of--

His already hijacked train of thought was halted when he felt Madeline's hands touch his chest and stroke down, coming to a rest over his navel.

--Hand.

_...Fuck it_.

Bruce shot forward and forced his lips onto hers in a bruising kiss. There was nothing but sheer lust in the kiss, with just a hint of passion, what from his previous thoughts of companionship, but mostly lust. Madeline kissed back and blindly groped for his belt, which she unbuckled and drew away from his pants before dropping it to the floor. Bruce in turn slid his hands under her robe to find that she was nude underneath; his lust flared even hotter than ever.

Mere moments later, Bruce and Madeline were both naked in Bruce's bed and lust finally overcame the billionaire as he parted Madeline's legs and rocked hard into her, at the moment caring only for putting out the fire in his body that was driving him up the Manor's wall. He felt her nails in his back dig in deep, and he idly figured that it would be leaving marks for months, from what he could feel. That passing thought was more justified when he began to move, taking no time with technique or finesse, however limited in experience he already was, as a matter of fact, as her nails dug deeper and dragged down his back, drawing blood.

It was a heated mess of limbs and tongues. There was no love or passion, only lust. But neither seemed to mind or care as they clutched at the other and moved together. Madeline was the first to reach an orgasm, and after she did, she laid back and let Bruce burn off the rest of the aphrodisiac. It didnt take long, and after a few more minutes, Bruce shuddered and fell still, finally exhausting himself to unconsciousness.

Dolly poked at him a few times, and seeing no reaction, pushed the billionaire off of her and stared at the now sleeping man. "...Lightweight," she muttered, sliding out of the bed and running a hand through her hair, getting it out of her face. She bent down and picked up the silk robe and put it on, not bothering to close it, and reached in the pocket to pull out a cell phone. She absently paced the floor as she dialed the Joker's number, and leaned against the wall to wait for the ring.

As she leaned against the wall, she felt something slide under her shoulder into the wall, and she jumped back and turned around in time to see a panel in the wall open like a sliding door. Just as the first ring sounded, she closed the cellphone, still staring at the opening in the wall with morbid curiosity, then put the cellphone back into her pocket. After looking back at Bruce to make sure he was still asleep, she stepped into the opening.

As soon as she stepped into the dark wall, the floor lowered like an elevator. Dolly just stood there and curiously waited for it to stop, which it did a few moments later. As soon as the platform hit the floor, an overhead light shone over where she stood. She tentatively took a few steps forward, and found that as she walked, another light turned on overhead. That in mind, she kept walking down the dim hallway until she found another door, but with no handle. She looked around, and saw a button next to the door, and pressed it. The door opened, and Dolly stepped into a very brightly-lit large room. The first thing that caught her eye was...

"...Fuck me..."

...Batman's suit in a plexiglass case. Her eyes widening in shock, Dolly slowly walked forward and around the case, taking in details to make sure it was the real deal. And it was. After minutes of staring at the suit, she turned and looked around some more, and saw the large 'Batmobile' parked in a large empty space, and a few more things that most definitely associated with Batman.

Dolly stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything at once. Something in the back of her mind clicked. She had just slept with Bruce Wayne. And Bruce Wayne was Batman. Bruce Wayne...was Batman.

This...changed _everything_...

* * *

_PLOT DEVELOPMENT!! --evil laugh--_

_Next chapter, Dolly devises her own plans--leaving the Joker out of the loop._


	16. Chapter 16

_Sorry for the wait, I had school crap and writer's block. _

**Chapter 16**

The very first thing that Bruce registered when he woke up was that he had a _splitting _headache. The fact that there was sunlight streaming through the curtains didnt help the fact, either. He groaned a little and put a hand to his head, over his eyes. Had he too much to drink last night, he wondered as he slowly sat up and ran a hand through his hair. God, he hoped not...he had a meeting to attend today and a hangover was _the _last thing he...

Movement to his left stopped that little train of thought, and he looked over, blinking his eyes to clear them. Madeline was in the bed next to him, the sheets barely pulled up her naked chest. And it was at that moment that Bruce registered that he was naked under his sheets.

...Needed.

_Fuck._

_Oh. Fuck._

It took every ounce of willpower Bruce possessed not to leap from the bed or do anything desperate in his horror. That left very few options, really.

He let a small sound loose from his throat, but that small sound was enough to rouse his bedmate from her sleep. She shifted around and opened her eyes, and Bruce felt the slight panic rise as he waited for the inevitable onomatopoeic _'kaboom'._

Madeline blinked a few times and sat up, keeping the sheets to her chest with one hand as she rubbed her eyes with the other tiredly. After a few agonizingly quiet moments, she looked to Bruce. And just looked. Her expression was emotionless and Bruce was about ready to scream in need of _some_ reaction. _Any _reaction!

"...Are you alright?"

Blink. ...Not the reaction he was expecting by a long shot. Madeline pushed a lock of hair from her face.

"You look ghastly, Bruce," she continued. "You're white as a sheet."

"I...I...!" Bruce cursed his lack of words as the sheet in his fist was clutched tighter. "I'm...I'm so--"

"Bruce." Madeline's soft voice stopped his feeble attempt at an apology. She sat up a little straighter, though the sheet over her chest stayed put. "There's no need to apologize. Please dont dwell on it." She slid to the end of the bed and Bruce turned his head to the opposite direction, his face very warm. "And I understand."

Bruce, his face still turned from her direction, bit his lip. "...Understand?" he queried absently. _He_ didnt understand what was going on here, and _she_ understood? He heard Madeline shift about to put something on.

"Yes," she said. "The both of us did something that we didnt mean to do out of desperation...I understand that, Bruce." She paused. "...No one has to know, Father included. I wont say a word to him, I promise."

The billionaire just stared at the wall in front of him, his brain racking hard to figure out just what did go wrong last knight. All he could even remember was...heat. He had felt _hot. Very _hot, like he was on fire from the inside out. And that was right about it. He didnt remember the coital activity at _all_. ...And he very well couldnt say a word either about what he didnt remember doing.

Without answering Madeline, Bruce put a hand to his face and let out a shuddery sigh. He was too deep in his thoughts to notice Madeline walk over to his side of the bed, but he froze when she felt him put her arms around his shoulders and hold him to her chest.

"Bruce...please dont let this ruin our friendship..." Her voice was cracked and pleading, as though about to cry. Bruce sighed and put one arm around her waist.

"...I wont, Madeline," he replied. "...I just think I need...just a few days...?" Madeline brushed his shoulder to let him know it was alright.

"That's fine, Bruce," she said. "You just take all the time you need, alright? ...Maybe...you can visit me at home sometime?" Bruce nodded.

"I will," he said. He looked up at her. "...I still apologize...but...for the circumstances..." Madeline gave him a smile and backed away from the bed.

"Please...forgive me for leaving," she said. "It's ten in the morning...and I promised Father I would call him at nine. I'm to leave tomorrow, and...would like to have you see me off."

Bruce gave her a smile back. "I will, Madeline," he replied. He took her hand and kissed it. "I promise. ...I'll call you later?" Madeline nodded and turned to walk out the door.

Bruce remained in his quiet room for a long while before getting up out of bed. He hated that he didnt remember anything...that was what killed him the most. It definitely wasnt Madeline, God no...he'd be lying if he said he hadnt _thought_ of it. It was just that...he didnt remember it. It sort of hurt...

Grabbing the robe from his chair, Bruce made his way to the bathroom to get some Advil from the medicine cabinet.

* * *

The Joker checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Dolly was supposed to have called him _last night_ to tell him she had the billionaire fucked and sedated. But no call. Not even a text. Her ass was his winter coat if she didnt have a _damn_ good reason for this.

At about eleven forty, he heard the door open and shut, and heard the other henchmen scramble to other rooms. _FINALLY!_ the Joker screamed in his head. He shot up and stalked for the room where Dolly was, prepared to let all Hell loose. "Where the _Hell _have you--!?"

"Change of plans," Dolly cut in sharply. She walked right past him and into her room, not bothering to close the door as she stripped her current clothes. The Joker blinked, then followed her into the room and stood in the doorway so she couldnt leave without an explanation.

"...Care to explain before your ass is grass?" he asked, his voice dripping with curious acid. Dolly pulled on a ratty white teeshirt and grabbed a bottle of waiting peroxide.

"If you want to find out," she said cryptically, "then let me prepare for the camera." She ducked under his arm and headed for the bathroom.

Curiosity overrode the desire to throw her out the top window, so the Joker let her go. He went into the living area and flopped onto the couch to wait for her to bleach her hair back to blonde. He really couldnt wait to see what she was about to do now.

It took a few hours, but Dolly was again blonde and in her adoring doll's clothes--Lolita style this time--and her hair was put in a large black bow, mocking innocence. The scar over her eye and her left breast were uncovered, and her makeup was all black. When she came out of her room, she pushed the video camera into the Joker's chest. "You run the camera," she said. "I'm going to get the hostage." The Joker blinked again and watched her walk into the literal room of hostages, then drag out the real Madeline Elloway, who was apparently unconscious. "Let's go," she said, dragging the woman into the vacant room made specially for videos.

The Joker just stood by as Dolly dragged Madeline into a chair, tied her up, and put duct tape over her eyes and mouth. She cracked her neck and turned to the Joker. "Roll it."

* * *

Commissioner Gordon impatiently tapped his fingers on his arm as he surveyed the skies and area around the rooftop. He wasnt expecting anything like this, especially on his daughter's birthday, but it was late nonetheless, and he thanked God that she had gone to sleep just moments before the call.

The ever-so-subtle _whoosh_ sound that he now knew by heart made him turn to see Batman making his way over. Gordon wasted no time in gesturing for him to follow. "We received something addressed directly to you," he said, making his way inside and trusting Batman to follow. "It couldnt wait." He led Batman over to a television and held up a video tape, which had a label on it depicting _To: Batman_, and put it in the VCR slot.

It began with some white noise, then focused shakily on who Batman immediately saw was Dolly. "Rolling," Batman heard the Joker say. Dolly looked up into the camera, and Batman had the eerie feeling that she was looking past the camera and right into him.

"Greetings, Batman!" she said, her voice bright and chipper, but drowning in malice. She gave the camera a little wave. "How _have_ you been? I've been fine, as you can see, we both have..." She put her hands behind her back as the Joker snickered from behind the camera. "But down to business. I wont split hairs here, Batman." Her eyes narrowed and her innocent visage turned into evil humor. "I know who you are."

Cold dead dread washed over Batman and Gordon looked at him in shock. But neither said a word as Dolly paused as though to let it sink in, that sadistic grin still on her face.

"This is not a bluff," she added, her face dead serious. "I know who your secret identity is. And dont think for a minute that I wont tell. But this isnt a message of blackmail. It's a message of redemption and trust. Whether or not it's misplaced is not my problem."

As she spoke, she began to slowly walk around. The Joker and his awful cameraman skills followed her and kept her the center of attention.

"I've decided to take an ironical leaf out of the Boss's book," she continued. "I've taken a hostage, and am planning to kill her in three days if you cant find her. If you cant find her, she dies at sunset on the third day. But..." She broke off with a dark smile. "There's another catch." She absently picked up a small knife off of a table and twirled it between her fingers.

"You see, I know your secret identity...but no one else seems to..." The twirling continued. "I want you to tell another person of your identity that doesnt already know, and I want proof that you did so. Choose your person wisely. I, like the Boss, know the squealers when I see them, and trust me when I say that I can make them sing. Now..."

The Joker followed her with the camera as Dolly walked over to someone tied in a chair. Batman felt his gut twitch when he saw the woman, who had long-ish brown hair and was wearing a familiar-looking dress. Her eyes and mouth were taped, but she was obviously conscious, as she let out a muffled cry and struggled against her binds. Dolly bent forward and mockingly carded her fingers through the woman's hair.

"I have with me here the hostage that you are to find. Her name has been mentioned in the tabloids, so quite unlike me, she is _very_ well-known to Gotham. More people--in this city and another country--will be wanting her to be found. Her name is Madeline Elloway, and as you can see..." She held up the knife. "...She wants to be found." She pressed the point of the knife to her collarbone, making Madeline let out another muffled cry and thrash harder.

Batman clenched his hands tightly and gritted his teeth together until he thought they would break, feeling a rising rage in his chest. Dolly grinned into the camera, as though knowing how he was reacting and taking pleasure from it.

"I'll be sending only one clue, Batman," she said, sliding the blade down to nick the skin. "Look out for it, and I'll see you within three days." She grabbed Madeline's head and turned it to face the camera. "Say 'Bye-bye', Madeline!" Madeline just screamed through the tape and Batman heard the Joker laugh manically before white noise cut the video off.

Commissioner Gordon shook his head. "This is four years all over again, isnt it?" He turned to look at Batman, but the Dark Knight was already gone.

* * *

Much later that night, Alfred found Bruce sitting in the den in front of the fireplace with his face in his hands. He silently stood beside the chair, not saying a word, but Bruce still knew he was there.

"...It's Rachael all over again, Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice thick with emotion. "...This is why I didnt want to get too close to her...I knew something like this would happen..." He shook his head and stared into the fire, his eyes shining wetly. Alfred looked sadly at Bruce.

"It still doesnt change the fact that you have feelings for her," he replied. "And as bad as this might sound, the fact that you have feelings for her is just the push you need to find her all the more." He left the 'unlike last time' unspoken between them. Bruce didnt look away from the fire, but he nodded.

"The only reason she took Madeline was just to spite me," he said, his voice thickening more. "And it was proof that she knew who Batman really was. She took someone I...I cared about..." He wiped at his eyes before they could tear up and ran a hand through his hair. "She said that I would be sent only one clue...I'm going to find it, and I'm going to save Madeline, Alfred. I wont let Dolly or the Joker hurt her."

Alfred gave Bruce a small smile and put his hand on his shoulder. "And you _will_ find her and you _will_ save her," he assured. Bruce smiled back. "Now, you need some sleep."

Bruce sighed, but stood up to comply. As he walked down the hall, he debated whether or not to sleep in his own bed or in another room.

* * *

Dolly and the Joker sat at the table, cards in their hands, as they contently played another rousing round of poker. Dolly tossed over two cards and the Joker dealt her two more after giving himself three.

"Sooo..." the Joker said slowly, rearranging his cards. "...You're not going to tell me who Batman really is?"

Dolly rearranged her own cards, her face void of any emotion. "Nope," she replied. "You're just the standby on this one, Boss. I'm running this show. But Batman doesnt have to know that...for all he knows, I told you." The Joker snickered.

"Sneaky little bitch, arent you?" he said. He didnt wait for a reply as he laid his cards down. "Full house," he said with a smug look. Dolly arched a brow and laid her cards down.

"Royal Flush."

"...God damn it..."

* * *

_That, dear readers, is what I call a foreboding mind-fuck. --insert evil laugh--_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Despite his best attempts to keep it to the police station, Commissioner Gordon found that he couldnt keep the video that Dolly made out of public eye. Not only were journalists risking their skins for it, but the Mayor and the other high-ranking citizens were saying that the video made public would help the situation. But Gordon just knew that the business people were afraid that since the hostage girl was English that they would loose their English accounts and business allies. It was a stupid reason, but Gordon finally made the video public.

More bad than good came from that video, including parents keeping their children home for more protection against yet another psychopath in their midst. Another bad side-effect was another public witch-hunt for Batman's identity. People seemed to think that if his identity was revealed, then Dolly would let Madeline go. Both Gordan and Batman knew that it wouldnt change a damn thing.

Meanwhile, at his home during the day, Bruce was pacing the halls hour after hour, taking off from work under the excuse that he was overworked, and worrying Alfred to pieces. When night fell, Batman took to the streets, looking for the clue Dolly said she would give him.

...And meanwhile during that night, Dolly was spending it watching late-night cartoons and hording the remote from everyone else.

The Joker was keeping in the background, and trying to figure out just exactly Dolly was ultimately planning. He got little gists, but that was about it. For all the brain-picking he was good with, he just couldnt find out what exactly she had in mind. But quite frankly, it sort of excited him. He didnt know what she was really planning, and he was just fine with that. It gave him a chance to see what she was really made of in terms of criminal insanity. The video was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Has anyone fed the hostage yet?"

The Joker snorted at Dolly's absent and quite random call-out, then gestured to someone to fulfill the request.

* * *

Two days. That was all that Bruce could think of since the sun rose. Two days since the video, and only another sunrise and sunset to go. The past two nights, he had looked most everywhere and interrogated most everyone to try to get the upper hand and on more clues than the one Dolly said she would provide. But he had found absolutely nothing. It was an airtight case. No one knew anything.

It made him want to bash someone's head in. It really did. But he resisted the very strong urge and simply chose to retire after four a.m.

And now it was seven in the evening and Bruce was biting his fingernail in agitation. He was in a state of mental frenzy, and he was just...standing here! It made him want to pull his hair out from anger and frustration!

"Master Bruce."

Bruce whipped around, his adrenaline high and chest full of fire. Alfred seemed to notice, and tentatively held out a finely sealed letter. "...This just now arrived for you, Master Bruce," he said softly, his voice sightly on edge. Bruce took it and upon reading the front, knew why.

**_To The Dark Knight of Gotham_**

With shaking fingers, Bruce turned it over and broke the wax seal to open up the letter. He took out the paper and read it aloud:

_This is not your clue, but merely your guide to it. If I were to ask the Boss about it, he would say that I am making this too easy for you. But I can assure you that this will be as difficult as I think it will be for you. _

_Your clue will be right in front of you right before sundown tomorrow. I expect Batman to arrive by then. If you can find Madeline Elloway before the sun disappears from the sky, then you may take her without a fight from myself or the Boss. That is my word, and I am a woman of my word._

_Your dear adversary, _

_**Dolly**_

Bruce's hands shook slightly as he clutched the letter tightly, then with a snarl of rage, tossed it and the envelope into the fire and leaned his head on his fist. Alfred quietly backed out after watching Bruce silently for a few more moments, leaving the billionaire by himself.

Bruce stared into the fire, his emotions reflecting the hot flames that licked out at his legs. He had more than once desired to kill his enemies...but now, he wanted to just wring that girl's neck until she turned blue. He wanted to _feel_ her die...perhaps that was what Alfred had meant. His feelings for Madeline were giving him extra sparks to the fire in his soul; that fire that burnt with desire to kill if necessary, despite his scruples otherwise. And he really did wish to kill that woman if she did _anything_ to Madeline...

But for now, he had to wait until tomorrow evening for the clue. He didnt know what it was, or when or where it would show up exactly, but the fact was, it was still another day away...

...And all there was to do now was wait.

* * *

Dolly stood up on the platform of the warehouse, staring out into the evening sky from the upper window. She had a blank, emotionless look on her face, as though in deep concentration. And none of the mental patients from Arkham that the Joker jail birded were mental enough to disturb her for any reason at all; and it wasnt just the fact that she was holding a sawed-off shotgun in her right hand, either. The very air she emitted was one similar to that of a mad dog right about to be let off of the leash; and no one wanted to be bitten.

Thought everyone else scurried about on eggshells, the Joker merely spent time looking at her from behind. Every once and awhile, her head would move to look at another section of the limited view, but other than that, she just stood there silently, in quiet contemplation. It was actually rather fascinating to watch, the Joker felt. Just by looking at her posture and examining her from afar, he could sense something akin to...himself, if he were female, that is. Hell hath no fury like a woman's, and how true that was, in his opinion. He just knew that if Batman showed up in time to save Miss Madeline--or even showed up at all--then Dolly was more than likely going to attempt to kill him anyway. This little game of hers was a double-edged sword, and he knew it. If Batman lost the game, then Dolly would kill Madeline and let Batman suffer the fact that he had failed again. If he showed up in time to save Madeline, then Dolly would attempt to kill him for not showing her the same courtesy a year ago.

Just thinking about it made the Joker snicker to himself. There was just no winning with Dolly. And that was just perfect.

Movement from above brought the Joker out of his musings, and he looked up to see Dolly finally moving away from the window and making her way toward the staircase to the lower floor where the Joker stood. He followed her with his eyes and stood still as she walked toward him.

"I'm going to bed," she announced. "Wake me at five." That said, she walked past him and into her room before shutting the door behind her.

The Joker blinked, then shrugged to himself and made his way to the hostage room to poke fun at the terrified people. Literally.

When five came around, the Joker deftly walked into Dolly's room to find he still asleep. He paused a moment to watch her. Did she even know how vulnerable she was when she slept? Her face was void of all emotion, and almost innocent-looking. It almost made the Joker laugh, thinking that _this_ was the face that enamored Bruce Wayne. Did the foolish millionaire even find a hint of malice behind that innocent facade? No, of course not. This innocent could almost fool _him_...

Sighing, the Joker reached out and poked Dolly's shoulder. Almost immediately, he found his face about six inches away from a hidden revolver from under her pillow, and Dolly opened her eyes. The Joker just stared blandly at her, and she sighed and sat up, putting the revolver back under her pillow before getting up and walking over to the dresser set and pulling out some things.

"It's two hours until sunset," the Joker threw out. Dolly nodded and pulled on a dark purple tank top.

"I know," she said. "I'll be right out." The Joker took the cue and left the room before walking over to the table and sitting down to wait.

He didnt have to wait long, as Dolly came out not five minutes later. He blinked when he saw her, for she had donned a look quite different than what he was used to seeing; rather it was more like what she looked like when he first found her a year ago.

Along with the tank top, she was wearing a pair of black pants that were tucked into black boots. She was also wearing a belt that had a holster attached to it, and a pair of black leather gloves on her hands was all she had. She was wearing no makeup other than black eye makeup that eerily resembled his own, but it was applied more neatly. Her hair was unkempt and tussled, much like it usually looked when she didnt brush it when she woke up.

Dolly sat down at the table across from him and pulled out a pack of cards, then handed the deck to him. Silently, the Joker took them out of the pack and began to shuffle them. He dealt them each five cards, and laid down only one. Dolly laid down two, and he dealt out the respective cards before rearranging them. He didnt even know why he kept playing cards with Dolly; she _always_ won. But it was a good way to pass the time, he figured. He laid down his cards.

"Straight," he said. Dolly slowly lowered her own cards.

"Nothing."

The Joker blinked, but gathered the cards back up. Dolly stood up and walked over to the Joker's side of the table.

"It's time," she said. She handed him a slip of folded paper. "Go to the rooftop where the Batsignal is, and turn it on. Wait five minutes, then read what's on the paper."

The Joker nodded and put the paper into his pocket, then turned to leave.

"Wait."

He turned around, and Dolly gestured to his jacket. "I want the jacket." The Joker blinked again.

"Why?" Dolly shrugged.

"I like it," she replied. Left with only that cryptic answer, the Joker sighed and shrugged the jacket off and handed it to her, thinking that it had _something_ to do with this master plan of hers. What, he didnt know. He just gave her the jacket. She put it on and shooed him away. "Be quick," she said. "You'll have about ten minutes tops before Batman arrives." With that, she turned and went in the direction of the the hostage room.

It took about a half hour for the Joker to make it to the Batsignal; undetected, that is. He managed to successfully steal a police officer's clothes for better concealment, and by the time he was up to the 'Signal, the sky was beginning to turn orange and red. Without wasting any time, the Joker flipped the switch and the trademark of his nemesis shot into the sky for all to see.

He leaned against the 'Signal with his arms crossed, waiting for five minutes to pass. After the umpteenth time of checking his watch, he finally sighed and pulled the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. As his eyes scanned the words, they widened fractionally.

_**You** are the clue._

* * *

_Well, the final scene is up and coming! --shaking with excitement--_


	18. Chapter 18

_Well, folks. The moment we've all been waiting for: the final battle between Dolly and Batman. What will happen? Who will win? Now, we find out. This'll be a long one, people...Here we go..._

**Chapter 18**

The Joker kept staring at the paper for another moment or two, letting what he read process in his brain. _He_ was the clue? What in the _hell_ did _that_ mean? Before he could contemplate on the matter further, the door to the rooftop opened, and a cop ran out, wondering who the hell had turned on the 'Signal. Without missing a beat, the Joker drew the handgun from the holster and shot him dead. The last thing he needed right now was a squealer cop to mess this up before Batman could arrive...

Moments later, the unmistakable _swoosh_ alerted him of the Dark Knight's presence. _'Speak of the goddamn devil,'_ the Joker thought with a grin. He straightened his back and cracked his neck before turning around. He was pretty sure that even without most of his makeup on, Batman could recognize him. "Well hel-lo, Batsy," he said, his grin widening. "Such a surprise to see you here!"

Batman's eyes darkened and his fists clenched hard. He was _not_ in the mood for the Joker's antics, not when he had to save Madeline. "Where is she, Joker?" he demanded, his voice as dark as ever. The Joker put on an innocent face and blinked a few times.

"Where is who, Bats?" he said cluelessly, shrugging. "I really have _no_ idea what you're--" Before he could finish, Batman dive-tackled him to the floor of the roof and held him down by the neck with one hand while the other curled in a tight fist, ready to attack.

"_Where is she_!?" The Joker just gave Batman a defiant smile, and Batman slammed his fist into his jaw hard. "_Where is she_!?"

Spitting out some blood to the side, the Joker began to snicker. Getting pummeled by Batman always gave him a giddy feeling like no other, really. Batman growled at the Joker's sick sense of gratification and hit him in the face again. "Answer me!!" The Joker just laughed harder, and Batman grabbed the collar of his shirt to raise him up and slam his head into the graveled rooftop. "Tell me where Madeline is!"

And...click. The Joker was hit with an epiphany. He _was _the clue. Dolly _wanted_ him to tell Batman where she was. Ah. That damn girl with her damn simplicity...

Batman raised the Joker up by the collar to again slam his head into the floor, and the Joker raised his hands up. "Wait wait wait..." he said calmly, his voice taking on a soft, sly edge that Batman really didnt like. But he complied, and lowered the Joker to the rooftop without hurting him further. The Joker licked his lips and winced. "...Think ya might've cracked my skull there..." At Batman's growl, he sighed. "Listen, I dont know why you decided to pick on me for this one. Dolly's the head honcho for this little game; I'm actually just a player in it, just like you. She gave me the job of 'clue'...and if ya_ happen_ to make me forget it, what with the head-banging and all..." He shrugged. "You're _kinda_ outta luck."

Batman looked as though he was physically fighting himself for a moment, and after a few more moments of silent war with himself, he let go of the Joker and stood up, leaving the psychopath to lie on the rooftop floor. "Where is she?" he said, his voice almost desperate. "Where's Madeline?"

The Joker sat up and wiped at his mouth, actually smearing the blood rather than wiping it off, and looked up at his nemesis, his expression almost playful. "Madeline, eh?" he said absently, cracking his neck again. "Kinda _informal_ with the girl, arent you?" He licked at his scars for a second. "Why is it so important that you find her?"

Batman stared down at the Joker, his hands flexing from the temptation to misuse them. "As if you dont already know," he growled. The Joker just blinked.

"...I dont, actually," he said honestly. "It's Dolls that knows who you are, not me. She didnt tell me a damn thing."

Batman felt a cold dread run through him as he realized that he had almost made a slip. Composing himself quickly, he narrowed his eyes at the Joker. "Where is she?" he demanded slowly. The Joker arched a brow, but grinned as he noticed that the sun was just starting to slip over the top of the buildings of Gotham.

* * *

Batman thought he had never felt his heart beat as fast as it was now. Right after the Joker had given him detailed directions on where to go, he had roundhouse kicked the bastard in the head, possibly leaving the Joker unconscious as he quickly left and not bothering to check otherwise. He had jumped off of the roof, used the wireless connector to Gordon's tracking devise for directions, and shot off into the night on the 'Pod. It was just minutes before sundown, and even though the destination was much closer than he really thought, he was still hauling ass as quickly as he could. He wasnt about to take any chances, not with Madeline's life on the line. He just _couldnt_ let another person he cared about die because of him. Not again.

Finally, the warehouse the Joker had described came into view, and he skidded to a screeching halt and jumped from the 'Pod to run inside. It was apparently empty, and it was quiet. Too quiet.

Sound from above snapped him out of the silence, and he immediately ran for the stairs to the second floor, praying that Madeline was alright. As soon as he came to the top of the stairs, he saw the bound and gagged form of Madeline in a chair, with no one else around her. But he didnt care. He ran up to her and immediately set to untying her.

"It's alright," he said softly, trying to calm the fact that she was struggling in fear. "You're safe now, Madeline." As soon as Madeline's hands were free, she blindly groped forward and held onto his arms with trembling hands as she cried out through the tape that covered her mouth. Batman quickly reached up and gently pulled off the tape from her mouth, and she let out a wail and clutched onto him, not giving him a chance to untape her eyes. He gently petted her hair and let her hold on for a moment. "It's alright...it's alright..."

"...Touching."

Batman whipped around with Madeline still in his arms to see a figure standing in the shadows, arms crossed and eyes almost glowing from the dim lighting. He narrowed his eyes and held Madeline closer to him as Dolly stepped out, uncrossing her arms and putting her hands in the pockets of the Joker's purple jacket. "Congratulations," she said sarcastically, jerking her head toward the window, which showed that it was just now sundown. "You made it _just_ in time."

"That's right," Batman growled back, taking a step back with Madeline still clinging to him. "I did make it in time. And as you promised, we get to leave without a fight." Dolly shrugged and sat down on the railing, her hands never leaving her pockets.

"You're right," she replied. "And I'm a woman of my word. Pity, though...I never got this chance..." She broke off, not saying more, though her one violet eye targeted right into Batman's eyes, slightly unnerving him. Batman shook off the odd feeling that stare gave him and looked down at Madeline, then reached up to pull the tape from her eyes gently...and paused.

...This face...it wasnt Madeline's. Not at _all_. But the girl who was apparently Madeline only clung to him and cried harder with relief. Batman looked up from his stupor when he heard Dolly begin to laugh. It started out low, as though she were trying to contain it, then it escalated into a chorus of insanity that Batman had heard all too often from the Joker himself.

Finally, after a few minutes, Dolly looked up, her face breaking out into a grin that eerily resembled the Joker's disturbing facial decor. "What's the matter, Brucey?" she said in a taunting droll. "Not who you expected to see?" Batman stiffened at the sound of his identity's name, as did Madeline. Dolly hopped up from the railing and suddenly her whole posture changed. She stood up straighter, and her head tilted almost shyly. Her face relaxed into a shy fear and her eyes widened innocently. "Were you expecting...someone else?" Her voice lightened and took on a soft English accent that Batman knew all too well as Bruce. "Someone like...Madeline, Mister Wayne?" And suddenly, her overall posture and visage twisted back into a demented form of humor as she giggled madly.

...And Batman felt his heartstrings snap one by one. The arms that had been holding Madeline protectively dropped limply to his sides and he felt his jaw tremble slightly. As he watched Dolly laugh horrendously at his expense, he didnt even notice an almost unnoticeable drop of liquid fall from his eye.

The Madeline in his arms drew back and stared up at him incredulously. "...Wayne...?" she said disbelievingly. "_Bruce_ Wayne...!?" Batman didnt even respond. But Dolly finished up her giggling session and shook her head, tsking lightly.

"Oh dear," she said with faux-fret. "It would seem like someone else knows of your secret identity, Mister Wayne!" While Batman was still sorting his heartbreak through his mind, Dolly drew out a pistol from the pocket of the jacket. "...And we have a problem, so it seems...because...not only does someone else know of your secret identity..." She slowly raised the gun shoulder-level. "...But you also breeched an item of the deal in not telling anyone else of your identity and sending me proof. So..." She clicked back the hammer.

"...The deal is null and void." She pulled the trigger and a shot rang out, shooting Madeline Elloway in the head. A spray of blood spurted forth, and the girl fell dead to the floor, her blood seeping out and puddling at Batman's feet. And it was then that Batman finally snapped out of it to assess the situation at hand. Dolly grinned widely and lowered the gun. "Catch me if you can!" With that, she turned and jumped out of the open window and onto the ladder just beside it.

A rage that Bruce had never felt before boiled within him; heating up his blood until it was unbearable. This was bloodlust. And he had to shed some blood. He _had _to. He had to _kill her_! _Kill. Her. _With a snarl of unbridled _hate_, Batman darted after her and shot up onto the ladder in time to see her disappear up onto the roof. He scurried up after her, skipping four to five rungs at a time in his fury, and leapt up after her. And there she stood just yards away, the autumn wind blowing her wild hair and the Joker's coat in it's stream. The dim light from both the lamplight and the city illuminated her violet eye, making it glow with an insanely evil light. Dolly slowly reached behind the coat to a holster on her thigh and took out a large, sharp amputation knife that glinted as evilly as her eye.

"Your move, _Bruce,_" Dolly hissed, her posture hunching like a viper prepared to strike. Batman let out a shout of rage and dove for her, prepared to strangle that neck of hers until the pale was replaced with _black_. But instead of the desired contact of his body overpowering hers, Dolly darted out of his line of attack and made a quick slash at him. And Batman came to find that it wasnt a blind swipe, either. Pain erupted in the junction of his shoulder and chest; one of the plate separations of his suit. She had dead-accurately hit a vulnerable spot; and deep. Blood seeped out of the gash, and Dolly held up the slightly bloody knife, letting the drops of blood trickle down the blade and onto her hand.

Batman saw red for a second, and ignored the pain to grab at his bladed brass knuckles, determined to take her out one way or the other. And in a moment of full awareness, he saw Dolly focus on his blades, and her posture curled in on itself ferally. But Batman took this opportunity to strike. Dolly narrowly blocked his attacks, but then she let out a scream and began to hack away at the air around and in front of him, and continued to shriek like an attacking animal. Unlike her first hit on him, which was planned and accurate, Batman noticed that these hits were wild and frantic; like she was defending her very existence--which she was really supposed to, but it was still odd.

By sheer chance, one of the slashes she made hit him right on the inside of his left arm, and not even in the vulnerable separation. But the sharpness of the blade and the sheer force behind it sliced right through the armor and right into his arm, making him loosen his hold on the blade in his hand. Dolly kicked the dropped blade away from him and off the side of the warehouse, and she made another slash at his right arm. "_Never again!_" she screamed, still hacking away blindly. "_I wont let you cut me again, you fucking son of a bitch_!!"

As he sharply drew back to avoid getting his face sliced in half, Dolly reared back and slammed her foot right into his stomach, which was actually a vulnerable spot in and of itself, but not even he anticipated the force behind the kick, and he went sprawling to his back.

As he laid there for that split second, something the Joker told him awhile back clicked into his brain:

_"If you want to get anything out of her, treat her exactly how you would treat me...Never underestimate her. Ever."_

...The psychotic son of a bitch was _right_, Batman realized. He was underestimating her...thinking that she would be easy to take down. And she wasnt, not by far. She was just as dangerous as the Joker, if not moreso...and she needed to be treated as much. To _Hell_ with chivalry, he'd had _enough_!

Darting back up, and resolve in mind, Batman ran at Dolly full-speed, his right arm raised, and he landed a hard hit right in her face.

Dolly was of course knocked down, but she got right back up, messily spitting out the blood to the side as she went at him again. And again, Batman fearlessly struck out at her. Dolly managed to dodge some of them, but was hit my most; but she just kept getting right back up. And the more he knocked her down, and the more she got back up, the more Batman noticed that Dolly's wild rage was being replaced by the look Joker got in his eyes every time he managed to get a hit in--insane glee. Dolly was getting the same sick rush the Joker was getting by being beaten; and that alone was sick enough for Batman. In one more hit, Batman struck her hard in the face again, and Dolly went down...and didnt get back up.

She tried, of course, but getting back up was hard. She struggled to get a grip and keep herself supported with her arms as she looked up at Batman through tangled, wild hair. "...That all you got...?" she spat out, her words sticky from the mouthful of blood. She spat a bloody mess at his feet. "...My father hits harder than you..." She shakily got up on one knee. "...And I killed that bastard...killed him good...bloody mess...next to my weak..." On the other knee. "...Bitch..." She planted one foot on the rooftop and slowly stood up. "...Mother..." She threw the knife in her hand to the side and slowly grabbed the shoulder of the jacket she was wearing and tore it off, tossing it to the side where the wind caught it and sent it over the edge of the warehouse. She straightened her back and cracked her neck before flicking her tongue out over her lips and smearing blood over them, giving Batman the impression of the Joker. "...C'mon..." she continued, beckoning him with one hand. "...Hit me...I want you to do it...kill me...all over again..."

Batman stood there silently, the heaviness of this entire..._stupid_...situation fell on his shoulders. ...This girl...Dolores Jesston--Dolly...was the way she was because of _him_. And the Joker was right. It _was_ his fault. _He _had created this monstrosity in front of him...and all because of his carelessness. After his conversation with the Joker, he had gone back over the clues the Joker had left him over a year ago, and saw--to his shame--that the Joker _had_ sent the clue to her location..._this_ very location he stood on. It was in the photo the Joker took of her in this very warehouse, which had belonged to a notorious gang from before the Joker's tyranny--and the symbol of the gang was right there in the background of Dolly's picture. Right there in front of his eyes. And as for the doll...that was an obvious given. Every assignment that Dolores Jesston had done for school was signed with 'Dolly', and no one else in Gotham went by that name.

And now...this whole fight...all the lives lost during this past year due to the girl in front of him...was all his fault...

Police sirens suddenly rang out in the distance, and Batman lowered his head and held up his right hand, which still had the brass knuckle blade. "...I'm sorry," he said softly, not bothering to hide behind his 'Batman' voice. "I'm sorry I killed you, Dolores..." He looked up, his dark eyes flashing. "...But now I have to kill you too, Dolly."

Dolly just spit to the side again and met his gaze without a waver. Batman tightened his fist and gritted his teeth, knowing that Dolly didnt have enough energy to block anymore attacks like this, and brought his arm back and made a move to run at her.

A shot suddenly rang out from nowhere, and Batman stumbled and fell to his knees as a bullet pierced a vulnerable area near his chest. He looked up in time to see the Joker run up to Dolly and give her a push. "Go!" he shouted, pushing her again. "Get running! You're no good to me dead, you stupid girl!"

Dolly and Batman both stared at the Joker for a moment before the Joker fired a shot at Dolly, purposely missing her. "_Now!!_" Dolly didnt seem to need anymore encouragement as she took off for the edge of the building and jumped down onto the ladder and disappeared from sight.

Batman turned his attention back to the Joker, who lowered his gun, then tossed it aside. "Shouldnt've wasted those damn bullets on the cops," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else as he licked his lips. He locked eyes with Batman's. "...Now it's between you and me..." He cracked his neck. "Dolly's no good to me if you kill her...no..." He shook his head. "...Cant have you killing her just because she broke your heart...Bruce."

Batman felt a lurching, cold sickness rise in his throat as he clenched his blade tighter in his fist. The Joker seemed to notice. "Oh yeah," he said, nodding. "I heard enough...I got back right about the time Dolly told ya..." He shook his head. "Ingenious..." He straightened his back. "...Guess...you're just going to have to kill me now...before I tell the whole world about you're...little secret."

The police made it to the edge of the warehouse, and Batman could hear them getting out of their cars and Gordon shouting instructions. But for now, all he could think about was how much the Joker was--again--right. This was indeed one of those "know-too-much" situations...and Batman couldnt risk that. He raised his blade again.

"...Looks like your prophesy is coming true, Joker," Batman said gruffly, not an ounce of gratification in his voice. The Joker just cracked his neck again, and grinned as shots rang out from inside the warehouse, where Dolly was no doubt picking the cops off from a window.

"...Looks like it," he concured. He spread his arms out. "Hit me," he said, his posture becoming hunched and daring. Batman paused for a moment, his hand tightening more into the blade. It was around that time that all shooting stopped. "...Hit me..." The Dark Knight drew back and began to make a run for the Joker. "Hit me!"

_WHUNK_

The Joker froze, his eyes wide, as Batman lowered his blade at the last moment and slammed his knee hard into the Joker's abdomen. He drew back, and the Joker slumped forward onto the rooftop, both arms around his stomach. Batman tossed his blade away and grabbed some cord from his suit.

"...Prophesies dont always come true," he said, again not hiding his 'Batman' voice as he pried the Joker's arms from around his stomach and tied his hands behind his back. "...Killing...it isnt me." He dragged the Joker up and hauled him to the edge of the warehouse, then slung him over his shoulder and proceeded down to where the cops and Gordon where before letting the Joker down to walk on his own.

Gordon met him halfway, eying the Joker warily. "...Miss Madeline Elloway?" he inquired. Batman silently shook his head.

"Casualty," he said lowly. "Dolly killed her anyway." Gordon swore under his breath and put a hand to his head as Batman walked with him back to the cop cars.

"...That's not good at all," Gordon said. "Considering her father is still alive...but the only good thing is we wont have to worry about her anymore." At this, both Batman and the Joker looked up in question, and Gordon turned and pointed a distance away. Both men looked over, and Batman felt the Joker stiffen and not walk anymore at what they both saw.

Dolly was lying on the ground on her back, spread-eagled and covered in blood. But what struck both Batman and the Joker was that her face was gone; shot off by a shotgun one of the cops was carrying. The only thing recognizable was her clothes, and that was it.

Batman stared at the horrendous sight for a few moments before looking down at the Joker...who had the oddest look on his face. It was like the expression from four years ago when he had when he found out that neither of the ferries' passengers had blown the other up...a look of utter disbelief. Only...this look the Joker had was...deeper. But at the same time, emotionless. Nothing.

Finally, Batman couldnt take the maddening silence, and he dragged the Joker away, while the psychopath kept his eyes locked onto Dolly's corpse the whole time, even after he was in the car and being driven away.

Batman walked over to Dolly's body and stared down at it, despite the grueling image where her face used to be. ...It was a waste...a sad, sad waste.

* * *

It was just two weeks later in Arkham Asylum at night when the Joker--sans makeup and in uncharacteristic white attire--was graced with a visit from Batman. The Dark Knight had been informed that the Joker had been actually very well behaved, and not saying a word, or looking at anyone. So Batman stood in the doorway of the Joker's room, silently contemplating the almost pitiful scene.

Finally, he spoke up. "...Have you nothing to say?" Again, he used his normal voice. The Joker just blinked and stared ahead off into space. "...Not even two words?" At this, the Joker blinked again, then turned his head slowly to look at Batman with cold, dark eyes.

"...You win." That said, the Joker went back to staring into nothing. Batman blinked, then sighed and turned to walk away, shutting the door behind him, and taking a moment to lean on it before composing himself enough to walk out into the night, feeling something in his soul akin to missing ache.

* * *

_Two years later..._

Though the closest tabs had been put on the Joker in Arkham, there was nothing to report on him. For two years, the Joker had not once attempted escape, threatened anyone's life, or tried to fuck with anyone's mind. He was quiet, withdrawn, and had not spoken two words in that amount of time.

Still, Batman checked in on his former nemesis from time to time, even more than once attempting to talk to him to no avail. It almost hurt to see his greatest adversary be reduced to shambles because of a broken self-made prophesy. It was pitiful, but also oddly sad. Despite what the Joker had said otherwise, Batman believed in his soul that the Joker had felt _something_ for Dolly; he wouldnt have tried to save her life if he hadnt. But still, for two years, the Joker remained quiet, and Batman remained relatively adversary-less.

* * *

Time passed without knowing how much had passed, in the Joker's mind. Things were nothing more than bubbles of awareness to him. A questioning here, a meal there...that was about it. The rest of that time was spent staring into nothingness as he thought about his broken existence relentlessly. He had been so ready..._she _been so ready. He was ready to die, and she was ready to take up his mantle. Dolly had been perfection. She had been the perfect apprentice to his madness. And he had found her on a bus. And he had spared her life, just from a whim of intrigue. And she had never disappointed him. Never.

Never...

Oh, another moment of awareness...oh, the joy...the Joker hated these moments. He hated reality. He hated everyone and everything associated with realty. Hate, hate, hate...fuck...might as well live through it...as always...

He was aware that someone was talking to him; a light voice with a girlish tone to it. He blinked and looked at the one who was talking. Blink. _Dolly._

The woman who was talking to him noticed him looking at her, and she smiled. Her face was girlish, though she had to be in her mid twenties. She had blonde hair and light blue eyes. The Joker frowned. No. Not Dolly. It wasnt her...he suddenly felt very angry inside. He needed to hurt someone...he needed to see someone broken...he needed to fuck with someone's mind...

The girl was talking again, he noticed. He snapped out of his thoughts for just a moment to give her some attention before fucking with her.

"...I'm sorry," he said, his voice in a higher pitch from disuse over the years. "...I didnt catch your name, Miss." The girl smiled warily.

"...Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Mister J."

* * *

_Ende_

_For anyone who's interested, I do have an epilogue that has quite the turn of events..._


	19. Epilogue

_Oh, I just love surprise endings...last piece of this story, and that's it._

**Epilogue**

It was just another dark night in Gotham city, and it was surprisingly quiet. Surprising it was, since after the Joker was sprung from Arkham Asylum again, more mayhem and chaos exploded in the streets--sometimes literally. And it was on the dark, quiet night that the Joker decided, on a whim, to visit the Gotham morgue. "For no reason", he had told Harleen, but that was just so she would get the hint and leave him to himself.

The Joker didnt count in years; he counted in dates of crimes he committed. There was a difference. And since the crime of assisting in kidnapping Madeline Elloway _happened_ to be five years ago, he merely thought of it as the five-year anniversary of November 18th...which was another anniversary, but only in his eyes anyway.

But three years ago--October 15th, so _almost_ three years ago--he had busted out of Arkham with the assistance of his new plaything, a Dr. Harleen Quinzel. When that foolish little lady had given her name to him, he had actually laughed for the first time in two years--from November 18th, of course. His old gears began to turn again, and 'Harleen Quinzel' came out 'Harley Quinn' in his thought process, and since he had had enough of self-wallowing, he decided to see if he still had what it took to drive someone mad for the hell of it.

Come to find out, he did; but not in the desired result.

Little Harley had found him fascinating...in the romantic sense (which to this day, he still hadnt figured out how or why, but he pegged it off that she had been crazy from the start), and had helped him escape Arkham. But then she hadnt left him alone since, and decided to keep the pet name he had given her.

She had made a pretty good sidekick...pretty good, in the sense that she wasnt perfect. She was flawed on so many levels, it wasnt funny, and she _annoyed _him to no _end_. She would cling to his arm, speak in that ear-bleeding tone, and call him by that _infuriating_ nickname, "Mistah J"; putting an immature accent behind it that almost made _him_ cringe upon hearing it. But he supposed it was better than the _other_ nickname she had recently taken to calling him: _"Puddin'". _Nearly every time she called him that, he swore he threw up a little in his mouth.

And it confused him sometimes, why he had _yet_ to kill her. She was annoying, she messed up on half of what she was supposed to be capable of doing, and she was absolutely crazy. She was so..._flawed_. Yes, that was the word. She was flawed. She was imperfect. And one of the only things she was really good for was a good lay. So what was it? What?

_She wasnt Dolly._

Yes, that was the reason behind it. She wasnt Dolly. Dolly was intriguing. Dolly succeeded at nearly everything she had done. Dolly was his equal in the insane department. Dolly was perfection. There was no comparison at all between Dolly and Harley; none at all.

So why? Why did he keep Harley? It made him seeth every time she screwed up and he had to bail her ass out of trouble; hell, one time he had gotten so frustrated with her, he started to strangle her, trying to drown out her little squeaks of pain and apology.

...But then, for some reason...he had stopped. He had taken a moment to take in her wide blue eyes that despite watering from pain and lack of oxygen, held absolute _worship_ in them. So he had let go of her neck, licked her cheek, and told her that they were going back home. She had recuperated right away and let out a chirpy "Right-o, Mistah J!" and flounced off after him, holding onto his arm in that sickening manner.

And over time...much more recently...his frequent attacks on her life drew to just once--maybe twice--a month, and he began to not tense up every time she clutched his arm in a loving way. He had stopped mentally cringing at those nicknames she gave him. And once, he had even kissed her...right before leaving her to fend for herself against the cops, but she had shown up two hours later; bruised, but with a dreamy expression in her eyes. And that alone disturbed him.

It wasnt until just three weeks ago that the Joker really found himself in unknown territory. Harley had managed to distract the police--undisguised, as a hostage--and escape back to their base of operations. The Joker had given her a gruff "Finally you do something right" congratulations, and Harley had leaned up, given him a kiss on his cheek, right on his scar, and said "Love ya too, Mistah J!" before flouncing off to do something else.

It wasnt the kiss that had had disturbed him, it was the word 'love'. It was a word that he had completely torn out of his personal dictionary, and an emotion that he couldnt even feel. And yet, someone obviously felt it for him. It was infuriating, and the Joker spent the rest of the night pacing about and shooting anyone who came within eye's sight. The next day, Harley just gave him a charming smile and went about her day, as though it was perfectly normal to proclaim love for someone such as himself. And with that smile, the Joker--who later berated himself--felt a twitchy, warm feeling in his stomach, and didnt really notice the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile.

During the berating, the Joker yelled out loud to himself why he was being such a fruit about this, and contemplated his knife while asking why he didnt just kill the annoying pest and be done with all of this nonsense!? He had paced awhile more, then paused. ...Because he had felt something for her. He felt something for Harley. And that kept him locked away from everyone else for the next day; mulling over the possibility that he could actually c_are _for someone.

But he digressed. After he had finally let himself out of the room and Harley had run up with worried eyes and asked what was wrong and could she get anything for him. He had replied:

"Yeah. You. Undressed." And then he had proceeded in tearing off her clothes and attempted to rape her on the couch. But, as he came to find out, you cant rape the willing. And Harley had been _much_ more than willing...

After the fact, he had gotten up and turned to leave her there when she wrapped both arms around his waist from behind and squeezed, then let go with a "Love ya too, Mistah J." And that again, left a warm feeling in his stomach.

It made him wonder, for the rest of that night, where he had attained these..._feelings_ from. Where the hell had it even started? Hell, the last time he had even had a _notion_ of anything for anyone was...

...Oh. There it was. The Joker glared out a window, seeing the smug face of Dolly in his mind's eye. He flipped off the window. "Funny, bitch," he growled, crossing his arms. He almost hear her laughing at the idea of pulling one off on him. God, if that girl was still alive, he'd...

...he'd...

...God damn.

And here he was in the morgue, his true intentions being made known now as he looked into files of November 18th, five years ago. He had already knocked the man on call out by slamming his head into a metal door, and so he was left by himself to look through the files until he found it. **November 18--Dolores "Dolly" Jesston.**

He held the file unopened in his hands, staring at the name on it for a moment. Dolly...it was that damn...perfect...girl that had made him feel things for other people. She made him care for someone, starting with her, when he had saved her life before Batman could kill her, which he knew the Dark Knight was about to do. He didnt have to. He could have just left her to die while saving his own skin, but now. He had let her escape, and resigned himself to his fate--which turned out to be another two years in Arkham after seeing his prodigy--his legacy--dead and defeated on the ground.

And now, the only thing he had left was her memory and her autopsy pictures in his hand. He walked over to a table that had yet to be cleaned off and sat down on it, and opened up the folder.

It was nothing he hadnt seen before. It had a full-body picture, a close-up of her missing face (and head), and close-ups on various points of interest like bruises and such. The Joker let no emotion show on his face as he looked at them, his eyes roaming over her body; the body that he himself had known...that had actually turned him on because of her scars...

Something clicked in his mind as his eyes stuck onto a picture, then he flipped through them all again and his eyes widened with each one. Finally, he jumped up off of the table, his hands clenched over the pictures in the folder...and he began to laugh.

* * *

Bruce Wayne sighed as he shut the door to his mansion behind him. It was late, and Alfred had--finally--taken the day off, leaving him alone in the mansion. Well, not entirely alone per se. He was sure that Dick had gone to sleep by now, given that the teenager hadnt snuck out to go 'bad-guy hunting' again.

Dick Grayson's situation had been a sad one; the 15-year-old had nowhere to go after his family was killed in the circus, and Batman had found him in the streets, fighting off some gangsters over profits. Batman had helped, then told him that this life wasnt the answer, and to seek out the help of Bruce Wayne. Then he had turned around and offered Dick a home until he got on his feet.

Of course, the teen--naturally curious to a fault--had discovered the Cave and broke something that Bruce had been working on. After swearing that he wouldnt say anything about Bruce Wayne being Batman, Bruce had told Dick that he could work off the cost of the equipment he broke...which was worth over a million, altogether. During that time, Bruce had found Dick to be a natural of the martial arts, aside from being an acrobat, and after the boy had saved his life by taking down a mobster that was about to shoot Batman, he eventually decided that maybe--especially with the Joker out and about--some help would be valued. Dick had given himself the title of "Robin", the circus family's nickname for him, and the partnership had begun to a--so far--good start.

Nostalgia aside, Bruce walked about Wayne Manor to his room and put his coat on a chair and began to untie his tie before noticing that there was another presence in the room.

"Hello, Brucey."

Bruce whipped around to see the Joker sitting in another chair across from him, his hands folded in his lap, where a manila folder also laid. Bruce narrowed his eyes and tensed up, but the Joker raised his hand in surrender.

"Didnt come here to fight, Brucey," he said, standing up. "I just came by to deliver something..." He put the folder on Bruce's bed and cracked his neck. He looked at Bruce and smiled eerily, his tongue flicking out to catch at his makeup, and Bruce stared back, his eyes narrowing more. "...Stop looking at me like I told the world your secret; I already _said_ I wouldnt tell...and I'm a man of my word."

"I dont care," Bruce growled. He made a move to attack, but Bruce held up a detonator, making him stop short.

"I said, I didnt come to fight," the Joker justified, keeping the detonator in plain sight. He nodded to the folder on the bed. "I just came to drop that off personally, and leave. That's it." Bruce shifted his eyes to the detonator. "...Oh. That. Well, in case you get too ballsy on me and wont let me leave when I didnt do anything wrong...yet...then your little Boy Wonder in the next room'll get a wakeup call at the Pearly Gates."

Bruce lowered his hands and took a step back. "Right," he said, lowering his defense. The Joker made a small 'uh huh' sound and lowered the detonator, then turned to leave.

"I'll leave this on the table in the hall," he said over his shoulder. "The bomb is in the kid's dresser drawer, just clip the green wire to deactivate it." With that, he kept walking until he was out of sight.

Bruce waited until he heard the front door shut before rushing out to Dick's room to find indeed the boy was asleep. He opened the drawer and found the bomb, then carefully picked up a pair of scissors to clip the green wire. With that, he went and found the detonator waiting on the table as was said. He took both back into his room and set them down to dispose of them later, then picked up the folder and opened it.

The sighted of a non-existent face greeted him, and he grimaced before looking back at it. The autopsy photos of Dolly...why did the Joker want him to see this? Yes, he knew that it was the anniversary of Dolly's death, but why this now...? He turned to another page, and blinked in surprise.

It was a photo of her naked chest, but that was only obvious once he got over the red-marked words and circles. Over the top of the left breast was a red circle, but it circled...nothing. Around the circle were the words _NO SCAR _over and over again. And it clicked what the Joker was telling him. He fumbled with the other photos, and with each new body area were circles and the words _NO SCAR._

_NO SCAR_

_NO SCAR_

_NO SCAR_

_NO SCAR_

Bruce let the photos drop from his hands and scatter to the floor as a cold sweat fell over him. Outside, where he could hear from his open window, the Joker was laughing manically, screaming with glee, "NO SCAR!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!"

* * *

_Aaaand that, my readers, IS the end. _


	20. NOTE

**NOTE!!**

_ARG!! Forgot to mention something now...I have a plan for a sequel--JUST a plan, but I might put it into play if anyone wishes it. If I do put it up, it'll be called **Black Jack**. I already have character sketches of the main villain in my deviantart gallery:_

h t t p : / / p h a n t o m - d . d e v i a n t a r t . c o m / a r t / B l a c k - J a c k - C h a r a c t e r - D e m o - 9 7 5 6 4 0 3 2

_Just copy and paste or delete the spaces. I have a few more pictures of the main character, so...take a look around or whatever. The choice is yours, my dear readers. I would like to thank the lot of you for your encouragement and reviews, and dont forget to tell your friends! Just joking, but thanks SO much! _

**Herr Angel-D, aka _The Lady Joker_**


End file.
